The Wrath of Winter
by SilverDust09
Summary: Jon dies by the hands of the Night King and is sent back to the day of his first resurrection. Pairings: Daenerys x Jon, Sansa x Willas Tyrell, Arya x Gendry
1. Chapter 1

**Jon**

When Jon woke he felt as if cast into a dream. The pale sunlight falling through the shutters made him wince and the scars on his chest felt like dragonfire.

Yet he felt so cold, his fingers numb from the chilly air reigning in the dark room. The bed beneath him was uncomfortable and his body felt heavy as if someone placed stones on his chest.

Where am I, he wondered his memories distant and blurred like rain. He had died, so much he knew. The Night King buried his blade of milk glass into his chest and killed him. He was the last to die, but yet he was here. Alive.

He searched his memories, his head pounding in a painful rhythm.

"Careful," a familiar voice whispered softly and touched his brow.

He inclined his head, his whole lower body brimming with pain. He recalled her golden hair and blue eyes. She died long before the Wall fell. Long before Winterfell and King's Landing perished. It was the Battle of the Bastards that killed her, like hundreds of her kinsmen.

"Val," he whispered his voice barely above a whisper.

"Aye," she confirmed and brushed her messy braid of honey over her pelted shoulder."It is me."

"You should be dead," he said, his voice strained and distant. Every part of his head burned with pain as he tried to remember the last moments before his death. His second death, by the hands of the Night King…

"I could say the same about you," she replied, a frown taking hold of her face. Then she put a bowl of water to his mouth.

He drank eagerly, but his thirst for answers was even greater.

"What happened?"

"The Crows killed you and the Red Woman brought you back. She sang prayers to her god to bring you back, but you didn't wake…only after we put you into the pyre did you return to us."

Then she grinned, baring her white teeth and brushed her hand over his cheek.

No, he thought and refused to believe it. The Night King killed him and yet he is here. Back in the past, on the day of his first resurrection.

What kind of madness is this? Are the gods trying to mock me?"

"It can't be true," he replied and shivered violently. As he sat up he emptied his stomach on the floor beneath him.

The chill creeping back into his bones made him realize that he was naked beneath the furs. With a trembling hand he touched the familiar scars sprawling over his chest. Daenerys had traced them with her slender fingers, a sad smile on her lips…

The memory pierced him deeper than sharp Valyrian steel. She is dead, he knew and felt despair taking hold of him. No, she was dead.

He leaned against the wall as he tried stand. Moving forward he stumbled over his feet like a newborn babe, but Val was quick at his side and steadied him.

"Careful," she told him, but he ignored her. He needed answers. Now.

"It can't be…you all should be dead," he stuttered."I should be dead."

"But we are not dead," Val repeated, her face alight with confusion. Carefully she helped him to sit back down on the bed and brushed the fur over his shoulders."The Red Woman brought you back."

Lady Melisandre, he realized the familiar feeling of rage stirring inside him. It was her who burned the Princess Shireen. It was her who made him do it…to forge Lightbringer. The last act in the bloody war that was the Long Night. For nothing…they all died for nothing. His father sacrificed everything for this prophecy and it turned out to be nothing more than a pretty lie.

"Lord Snow," Lady Melisandre's voice called him back from his misery. She stood at the entrance, her ruby eyes wide in wonder as she regarded him. The Onion Knight hovered next to her a frown creasing his brows."Then it is true…all I believed was a lie."

The mere sight of her made him fist the bedding, but he was too weak to get to his feet.

"Indeed," he snapped angrily, his dark eyes piercing into hers."A lie…your silly prophecies are nothing more than a folly for children."

She didn't answer at once, but bridged the distance in a swirl of red silk, her ruby eyes wandering over his scars.

"Your scars are completely healed…R'hllor blessed you. You are right…Stannis was not the Prince that was Promised. I misjudged the fires."

"Misjudged?" he asked, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. She knew nothing of the dark future lying ahead of them."There is nothing for us in the future other than darkness and death. The Long Night will take everything from us. No prince will come and save us."

Then he laughed and laughed, his whole body rumbling with pain and amusement. Their faces told him that they thought him mad, but he didn't care.

The pain was too much. He was torn between laughing and weeping.

After he had regained a semblance of composure Ser Davos sent Lady Melisandre away.

Pale and shaken by his words she left in company of Val, who had been lingering at the entrance throughout the whole conversation.

"You were dead and now you are not…that is fucking mad…I can only imagine how it feels to you," the old man began, but Jon cut him off before he was able to continue.

"I came back before," he told him straight to the point and laughed. He doubted the man would understand, but he needed to elevate the pain inside him."This is not the first time. Last time you told me something very similar."

"Before?" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion."I don't…"

"I died before and the Lady Melisandre brought me back. Then we took back Winterfell and fought the White Walkers. Three years of fighting…three years of starving and death. Nothing worked. All of you died in the end."

The old man paled visibly, but Jon didn't expect any understanding from him.

"You fight for as long as you can and you clean up as much of the shit as you can," he recounted the Ser Davos' words to him. They gave him courage when he needed it the most."You told me that to comfort me after my first resurrection."

Now he felt only despair. Despair that he will have to live through that horror again. Gods, what if it will never end? What if he will have to repeat this over and over again…

The old man's eyes widened in shock. Maybe, he intended to give him the same words of courage…

When the old man didn't answer Jon sighed and started to shake his head.

"It matters not. I failed…the Night King cannot be destroyed. I tried to forge Lightbringer…but it didn't work."

"I admit…I don't know what to make of your words," the old man replied."But if there is one thing I have learned in my long life then it is this…if you fail you need to get up and fail again."

Jon couldn't help but to laugh when he heard the familiar words. He told the same to Daenerys and to his sisters after Winterfell was lost. Then later he told he told it to the survivors of King's Landing…

"Are these words also familiar to you?" the old man asked then and gave him a spooked look.

Jon gave a weak nod in return.

"Gods!" the old man cursed and stroked his beard."What kind of madness is this?"

Jon exhaled deeply and brushed his hair out of his face.

"I do not know. I only know that I got a third chance."

…

The traitors were executed in the morning, a grim sky spreading over the horizon. The men of the Night's Watch and the Free Folk stood assembled to pay witness to the act.

Even Ghost was here, his ruby eyes resting on him. It gave him comfort, but was unable to take away the simmering pain in his chest.

"Everything is ready, Lord Commander," Edd told him, his eyes red from lack of sleep. It must have been a long night for his old friend.

"Good," Jon replied and forced a frozen smile over his lips."But don't call me Lord Commander. My watch is over."

Then he climbed up the wooden pedestal where the gallows were built on. With the loops already placed on the traitors' heads he came to stand before them, their eyes widened in shock at his sudden appearance.

Last time he cut off their heads, but this time he needed them whole. At least this way their treachery will be of use.

"Give me your last words," he demanded, his eyes resting on Bowen Marsh. His face was bruised and his small dark eyes wide in fear.

"Why are you not dead?"

"It seems the Lady Melisandre's God has other plans for me," he snapped back, deriving a certain pleasure from the man's pained expression. Even now he recalled the pain of the daggers finding his flesh.

The next traitor named Wick spit into his face, but Jon remained calm. His old self wouldn't have endured this insult like this. Yet his old self didn't know the horrors of the Long Night.

At last came Ser Alliser Thorn, grim and determined even in death while the man Durran the Defiant whimpered.

"Tell my mother that I died fighting the Wildlings. I beg you."

"Your whimpering is making my head squirm, boy!" Ser Alliser complained and clenched his teeth. Jon hated him and sometimes even despised him, but among this hatred he also felt respect for him. He was a man who stood by his principles even in the face of death."I fought and I lost. Now I rest, but you Lord Snow…you will be fighting their battles forever."

Truer words were never spoken, Jon thought. He even felt a hint of jealousy. He longed to rest…

Yet he knew that now was not the time for idleness.

Thus he unsheathed Longclaw and cut the rope. It felt strange to hold his old blade when he lost it in the Battle for Winterfell. It shattered into a thousand pieces…

The rope tightened instantly and snapped. He heard the breaking of bones and the traitors stopped moving.

Their faces made him shudder down to the marrow of his bones. Blue and contorted he couldn't help but to be reminded of the enemy…

He was given another chance, but he didn't know what to do with it. How can he defeat the Night King when he wasn't even able to do it in his past incarnation?

"Should we burn the bodies?" Edd asked, but Jon shook his head."No, put the dead bodies into the Ice Cells."

Edd paled and wrinkled his brows.

"Why the bloody hell do you want to put them there?"

"You will see," Jon replied and shifted his attention to Tormund. He stood there in company of his mighty son Torreg and his two daughters, all three of them kissed by fire like Ygritte. There were other familiar faces he had missed. Soren Shieldbreaker, the Magnar of Thenn...all of them died in the Long Night.

Yet now they are here, breathing and alive.

"Death left you unchanged, Lord Crow," Tormund japed in his usual disregard for formality."They say you are a god, but I saw your cock. No god has a cock that small."

Jon couldn't help but to smile. It was the first honest smile he shed since returning to this shadow of his memories.

"You told me that before," he replied vaguely."But my cock matters little in the grand scheme of things. Now let us go inside…there is much we need to speak about."

"Aye," Tormund agreed and Jon led them into the Shieldhall, the only place big enough to house them all.

Jon asked Edd to bring them mulled wine and to stir fires in the hearths. The taste of the wine was warm and pleasant…like a kiss.

No, he thought and brushed those thoughts away before they were able to take hold of him. I killed her.

"Lord Crow!" Tormund's grumbling voice called him back to the present."Have you lost your speech?"

"I apologize," Jon replied and lowered his head."I heard you…What I wanted to say...The Free Folk needs to prepare. We will soon go to war."

Hushed whispers and muttering followed, but Jon ignored it. The last time it was Sansa who stirred him to action, but this time he is determined to be prepared for her arrival. And that of this mummer who pretends to care for her…Lord Petyr Baelish.

"War against whom?" Soren Shieldbreaker asked.

"The Boltons. Winterfell needs to be retaken if we want to prepare for the coming winter and the true enemy."

"And how will we retake Winterfell?" Tormund asked and stroked his beard."Mance told me what a mighty castle it is. If this King of yours wasn't able to take it how can we accomplish it? We have barely a few thousand fighting men. The rest are women and little children."

We will soon have an army, he wanted to reply but only he knew the truth Sansa hid from him the last time. This time he intended to make full use of the Vale Lords.

Yet he couldn't tell them that. They would think him mad.

"We have Wun Wun and we will prepare. Trust me."

Later that night he settled himself before the hearth, watching the flames and hoping to see a glimpse of the future. Lady Melisandre claimed to have this ability, but it was just another lie. The flames told him nothing…

"There you are Lord Snow," the woman's soft voice roused him out of his deep thoughts."It seems you find the flames as captivating as me. If you want I could teach you how to see."

"I don't need flames to see the darkness that lies ahead of us," he told her, not intending to hold back. If anyone in this world may believe him then it was her."I know how it feels, because I experienced it."

Confusion shone in her red ruby eyes.

"What did you see?" she asked and knelt down next to him, her slender fingers brushing over his burned hand.

"A world full of death," he replied and brushed her hand away."In the end Westeros was lost to the death...we hoped to at least safe Essos. I made the necessary blood sacrifice...but it didn't work. I died and now I am here back at the beginning…it was you who made me do it. It was you who made me kill her."

"Who?"

"You will meet her soon enough."

Then rose and went to sleep, Ghost licking his burned hand as if to mend the scars left there.

…

 **Information on this story:**

 **Is a mixture of book and show elements. There are several characters in this story that don't appear in the show.**

 **In regards to Jon's relationships in his past resurrection:**

 **Jon was pretty fucked up after his first resurrection and had something going with Val, but she died in the Battle of the Bastards. It wasn't really serious, but I am mentioning because Jon will mention it in the story. Jon won't have a relationship with her in this current resurrection due to the simple fact that he got married to Daenerys and had a kid with her. They spent three years fighting the White Walkers before Jon died. I don't see him just hopping in bed with Val again after being married to another woman. Jon is pretty rattled by the past, but he is not the kind of guy who indulges in many women. Jon will meet Daenerys after Winterfell is retaken and she will have some sort of memory of him, but it won't be as direct as with Jon.**

 **Ask questions if you like.**

 **I apologize. When I posted this chapter the first time there was something wrong with he format I used. Now everything should be correct.**

 **Ask questions if you like. I will try to answer them in the next chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sansa**

The sharp wind was biting into her skin and her backside was raw from the long ride. She was born in the North, but even with her thick shawl wrapped around her shoulder she felt the cold.

For more than two weeks she, Lady Brienne, Podrick Payne, Theon Greyjoy and Lady Alysanne Mormont had travelled to Castle Black. They had lived on the meager rations graciously provided by King Stannis. One of his outriders found them frozen and fleeing from Winterfell. What happened to the singer and his women, who helped them escape, she didn't know.

Probably skinned alive, like all the others who dared to displease Ramsay Bolton. _My husband_ , she thought with bitterness. _No more_ , she told herself and tightened her grip on the reins of her horse.

 _I can't go back_ , she knew and tried to banish away the horrible memories threatening to overwhelm her.

She had no tears left to weep, only bitterness against Lord Baelish for selling her like a common whore.

"My Lady," Alysanne Mormont addressed her softly."I think we should take a rest. You look tired and hungry."

 _I need to get to Castle Black_ , she wanted to say but Lady Mormont was right. Her backside hurt, her body felt numb from the cold and she had been bleeding since her jump from the high walls. First she thought it to be her moonblood, but now she was sure that it was something else…

"Aye," she confirmed."Let us take a rest.

Alysanne Mormont appeared relieved and soon they were huddling under a crooked fir tree, stirring a fire to life.

Sansa pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, trying to ward off the cold as Podrick Payne continued to sharpen the blade belonging to Lady Brienne.

There was something comforting about the act and filled her with a memory of her childhood. It was the image of her father seated beneath the weirwood tree, sharpening the smoky surface of Ice.

This sword was also made of Valyrian Steel, but smaller and more handily than her father's blade.

"I never asked," she said then, a smile crossing over her frozen lips."What is the sword called?"

Podrick's eyes widened and an uncomfortable expression took hold of his face.

"Oathkeeper," he replied after a moment of silence had passed between them."The Lady named the sword Oathkeeper…it was forged from your father's blade."

 _No_ , she thought a sharp pain making her heart clench. Tears welled up in her eyes and froze a moment later. _Father._

Podrick Payne sensed her distress and made an attempt to comfort her.

"Ser Jaime gave it to Lady Brienne to protect you. He swore a vow to your Lady Mother that he will bring you and Lady Arya home to Winterfell. He asked Lady Brienne to fulfill that promise…that is why we came here North to find you."

Sansa never paid much attention to the Kingslayer. He was the Queen's man and she feared him like she feared Joffrey.

 _I misjudged him…like I misjudged Lord Tyrion._

Yet now it was too late to change the past. The way forward was the only path available to her and to find her half-brother Jon.

It was Ramsay who told her that he is Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. _Bastards can rise up in the world_ , he had told her with that horrible glee shining in his eyes.

Jon was nothing more than a distant memory to her. As a child she was cold to him and most of the time she ignored him.

Now she felt regret.

 _I will kiss his cheek and apologize for her past...maybe then he will forgive me._

It was a fleeting hope, but the only hope left to her.

"My Lady," Podrick snapped her out of her deep thoughts and touched her cheek."Lady Brienne and Lady Alysanne have returned."

She nodded and smiled at them. They captured a rabbit and soon Lady Alysanne was plucking the fur from the dead animal while Sansa helped keeping the fire alive.

Then they roasted the rabbit, their stomachs rumbling when the delicious smell filled their nostrils.

The fresh meat tasted heavenly, though she doubted it will be enough to sate them all. Especially, Theon looked terrible. His bones showed through his cheeks and his hands were thinner than Sansa's ankle.

When she first laid eyes on him she wanted to do nothing more than to wrap her fingers around his neck, but now she felt only pity. Whatever Ramsey did with him, it was punishment enough.

 _He didn't kill Bran and Rickon_ , she knew. He told her the truth, but that was only a small comfort to her. Who knows what happened to her sweet brothers. It would be foolish to hope for more…

"Lady Brienne," she addressed the Lady Knight after the meal."Podrick told me about your promise to Ser Jaime…he said that you were searching for Arya. Did you find any sign of her?"

An ominous expression washed over Lady Brienne's face.

"I found her…in company of a man, but she refused to leave. He she looked good, but not exactly dressed like a lady."

Sansa was surprised when a laugh escaped her mouth. It was such a foreign sound to her now…

"That sounds like her."

Lady Brienne smiled and Podrick looked distraught. Theon only continued gnawing on the bones of the rabbit until there was nothing left of them.

Then they went to sleep, the cold and the nightmares of the past momentarily forgotten.

The next day proved even colder, but when she saw the horizon cut off by a massive wall of ice and snow she knew that they reached the Wall.

Unsurprisingly, they found the gates of Castle Black barred.

"Who goes there?" a man asked, dressed all in black.

"My name is Brienne of Tarth and this is my loyal squire Podrick Payne. The Lady behind me is Alysanne Mormont of Bear Island and the man next to her Theon Greyjoy. We are here to escort Lady Stark to her brother…Lord Commander Jon Snow."

The man had listened to them in silence, but the name Jon Snow roused something inside him and he soon nodded his head in understanding, flashing them toothy grin.

"Aye, I know him," he confirmed and relief washed over her."I will open the gates for you at once."

The rattling of the chains was nothing more than a distance echo to her and then they were finally able to lead their horses inside Castle Black.

Left and right they received strange glances. There were men dressed in the common black garb of the Night's Watch, but also women dressed in pelt and men dressed in leather. Some of the looked quite fearsome.

A mighty man with an extraordinary red beard eyed Lady Brienne with great curiosity. Sansa would have called him smitten, but that could only be her imagination.

She looked left and right, hoping to find the familiar face of her half-brother. Long and framed by dark hair like her Lord Father and her sister Arya.

"Sansa!" a strained voice called out to her."Sister…"

Still perched on her horse she turned around and found Jon Snow.

He was still her somber and sullen half-brother, but his features looked sharper and age has changed him.

 _Like me_ , she thought and climbed from her horse. She was trembling, but not from the cold.

"Sister," he repeated, his voice alight with happiness. Sansa was stunned, but she had little time to think it through, for she nearly fell from her horse, tangling her feet in the stirrup.

Luckily, Jon caught her and placed her down on the ground, her feet still trembling like young trees in a storm.

"It is good to see you again," he added as his hand traced her face with his gloved hand. His expression was pained, sad and melancholic…

"Jon," she said, her voice hoarse from from the cold.

"It wasn't sure if you would remember me…," she admitted honestly. Her words roused something inside him and a moment later he enclosed her in a tight hug, his face buried in her neck.

It was only then that she realized that he was weeping.

Truly, she expected a smile…a hug…a kind word, but not this. What happened to him?

"Jon," she said and patted his shoulder."I can breathe."

"I apologize," he said and let go of her."I just…"

"No need for that," she replied hesitatingly."I am just tired…we are all tired."

"Of course," he said, worry washing over his face as he regarded the others. Sansa was quick to introduce them.

"Jon…this is Lady Brienne of Tarth, her squire Podrick, Lady Alysanne Mormont and…," she continued her heart clenching as she looked at Theon. She doubted Jon will be able to recognize him now. He looked like an old man…

"Theon Greyjoy," Jon finished for her, his voice dark and foreboding. It made her shudder and she clasped his shoulder tightly.

"He saved me…he didn't kill Rickon and Bran…I will explain it to you if you let me," she tried to explain, struggling for the right words.

Jon gritted his teeth and brushed her away.

Then he addressed Theon, who shivered like a tree left bare to a terrible snow storm.

"You betrayed Robb. I should kill you, but we have need of every men in the coming war. Stay if you want or return to your people. I will not kill you, but I will not think of you as anything else other than a traitor."

Theon looked at Jon, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"I understand. I will leave...once the storms die down. I thank you."

"Don't thank me," Jon replied."Thank Sansa for speaking out for you."

Then Jon led them inside, but Sansa had no strength to continue the conversation. Jon allowed her to sleep in his quarters in company of Lady Brienne and Lady Alysanne as her, but she wouldn't have cared if he had her sleep on the ground. The moment she touched the soft bed she fell into a deep slumber. She didn't know how long she slept, but it had to be a whole day, because the next time she laid eyes on Jon his beard was considerably thicker.

"You look better," he remarked and kindly informed Lady Brienne and Lady Mormont that supper is awaiting them.

There in the dark candlelight she got a clearer look on his face. All boyishness was gone, but she found surprisingly little resemblance to her Lord Father. She blinked again, but the impression remained the same. Maybe it was the time apart, but his mouth appeared fuller and his eyes had a much darker shade of grey. When she was a child she never notice the difference, but she hardly ever looked at him.

"You slept the whole day…Are you feeling better?"

She nodded and brushed her plaited braid over her shoulder.

"Much better…thank you," she began, at a loss of words."I thank you."

His features softened instantly and he handed her a bowl of soup. It was more like water littered with meat and herbs, but she was hungry and drank greedily.

Then he offered her a cup of bitter ale. She nearly choked on it and then he smiled as if he recalled a sad memory.

She exhaled deeply and gathered her courage.

"Jon…I want to apologize…the way I treated you was not right," she stumbled over her words, her gaze resting on her folded hands.

"No need," he replied and leaned over to squeeze her hand."I already knew that."

She was speechless. She should be happy, but there was something strange about him.

The way he treated her…it was so reminiscent of Arya and brought tears to her eyes.

"Arya…," she stuttered."I am sorry that it is me and not her."

"Gods no," he gasped and gave her a helpless look, before brushing his hands over her cheeks."Don't cry…If I said anything wrong then I apologize…I am just happy to see you. I thought you all dead."

His words filled her with a warmth. It made her want to tell him everything. It made her want to pour out her heart.

She grasped his hands and gave him a trembling smile.

"Will you listen to my story?"

"Of course," he replied, a pained smile curling on his lips."I will listen…we have all evening."

Then she recounted her tale from the beginning. She spoke of father's sad death. She spoke of her marriage to Lord Tyrion, how she was smuggled to the Eyrie and how Lord Baelish fooled her into a marriage with Ramsay Bolton. She didn't tell him what he did to her in detail, but the rage in her brother's face told her everything she needed to know. He would give him a painful death.

"Don't fret, sister," he told her, his dark eyes resting on the crackling flames. Ghost lay sprawled on the floor, his ruby eyes piercing her through the darkness."You are safe."

It made her miss Lady.

"Brother…;" she prodded gently."What happened to you?"

He lifted his gaze, the flames casting a hint of purple over his dark eyes.

"I died," he whispered and thought that she heard wrong."I am not jesting…I died."

Then he rose to his feet and pulled off his cloak. His surcoat followed and then his tunic.

When she saw the burning red scars sprawled over his upper body she gasped.

 _It is true_ , she knew then. _Nobody can take such wounds and live._

"What happened?"

"My brothers killed me for allowing the Wildlings pass the Wall. It was necessary…the White Walkers would have killed them. They have the ability to raise the dead and if I allowed the Wildlings to die they would have joined their ever growing army."

His words made her recall stormy nights before the hearth while Old Nan spun her tales for Bran. The fact that Jon came back from the dead was even more unbelievable, but his scars were an undeniable fact.

"You don't believe me…I can see it," he stated, his gaze distant and sad."But it shouldn't be a surprise to me."

His words confused her, but she played along. She didn't want grow enmity between them.

"Jon…I am sorry. I didn't mean…it is just so hard to believe. I know you would never lie to me."

He laughed then, as if he was recalling a silly memory from the past.

"Someone once told that me I should learn how to lie," he replied and she couldn't help but to chuckle.

"Who?"

"Lord Tyrion."

"That sounds like something he would say."

"Aye," he said and emptied his cup in silence. Sansa used the moment to address the issue at hand. Ramsay Bolton.

"And what will we do now?"

He laughed again, as if her question was particularly amusing to him.

"The only thing we can do. We go home," he replied and placed the cup on the table. Ghost was now back on his feet, licking his burned hand.

"But how?"

"The Wildlings will help us and I will call upon the Lords of the North, hoping they will recall their loyalty to our family. The intend to seek out the Mountain Clans…I should have told King Stannis about them, but I was too occupied with my own misery. Another person I failed, but there is nothing I can do to change the past. Then there are the Vale knights. Lord Baelish will soon contact you."

Sansa froze. _How can he know that?_

"But he sold me…he cannot be trusted. And King Stannis was not alone, though his men looked very exhausted. He saved me…Theon and I found safety in his camp. There were other Northmen with him. I saw men belonging to House Mormont and Karstark, though they can't be called numerous. The King asked Lady Mormont and Theon to accompany me. Then we met Lady Brienne and Podrick. Without him I wouldn't have been able to find them and make it to the Wall."

"I know," Jon told her and leaned back in his chair."I told you...I wish I was able to save him, but the past is written. In regards to Petyr Baelish…I only intend to use him to retake Winterfell and then we will punish him for what he did to you. You did it the last time, but I don't mind doing it…knowing the truth about him."

She didn't believe her ears. His words made no sense, but he sounded sincere.

"Brother," she said."I fear I don't understand you at all…."

He gave her and understanding smile and brushed his hair out of his face.

"That is no surprise...it is hard to explain."

"Then try," she prodded, her heart beating faster."Tell me…I am willing to listen."

He sighed deeply and forced the words over his lips.

"I told you that I died…but that was not the first time. I died before and now everything is repeating itself. Like the last time you came here to Castle Black. I was tired of fighting, but you convinced me to retake Winterfell. You lied to me about the Knights of the Vale, because we didn't trust each other. Thousands died and a boy who I believed to be Rickon. It was all a mummery staged by Ramsay Bolton to lure me into battle and the fool I was I followed the bait. The boy wasn't our brother…he was with the Umbers. They switched sides to our favor, but it were the Knights of the Vale who brought the decisive victory. Still, thousands of men died…many of whom could have helped us in the coming battle against the true enemy…the White Walkers."

She had listened in silence, but she was unable to make sense of her brother's words.

But she knows what she wants. She wants to go home, to defeat Ramsay, to retake her home…

"I can't make sense of your words, but I am prepared to do everything that needs to be done to retake Winterfell. If it means fooling Littlefinger I will gladly help you."

"I thank you, sister," he replied in a heavy voice."And I ask for your forgiveness."

"Forgiveness? What for?"

His face was full of pain, tears shining in his eyes.

"That I was unable to save you...like all the others."

...

 **Author Note:**

 **Thank you for the reviews. If there are questions feel free to ask.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Jon**

Jon woke before dawn, the familiar taste of blood in his mouth. It seems Ghost went hunting tonight, but Jon had gotten used to it since his first resurrection and learned how to harness his warging abilities. He was no way near as powerful as Bran, but it was hard to compete with the Three-Eyed Raven.

Carefully, he stumbled through darkness and lit a candle. Then he scrubbed his face and pulled a tunic over his head, followed by his surcoat and a cloak. His new chambers were once used by Maester Aemon, but the old man was long dead and Jon has yet to find a replacement for the Maester. He recalled sending Sam to the Citadel to become his replacement, but for him that felt like years away while here only a few moons have passed since his friend's departure.

Sam was one of the few who lasted to the end, but even his fearful friend was not able to escape death. Gilly and little Sam perished long before that day and by then Sam had lost much of enormous bulk. In the end he had learned how to fight, though he never grew into a capable swordsman. _My father would be proud_ , he had told him on the day before his death. _His death by dragonfire was kind. I am glad for it._

"Lord C…," Edd greeted him, but corrected himself when he saw Jon's frown."Jon…ah you are awake. A raven came for you…" he added and handed him the raven scroll sealed with the familiar pink seal of House Bolton. The sight should have filled him with dread, but it seems his living through the Long Night numbed him against such feelings. Truly, Ramsay Bolton was nothing compared to the Night King or the horrors of winter…

"Thank you Edd," he replied quickly and put the scroll into his vest. He knew what was written in it, but he wanted to open it in front of the others. They deserve to know what kind of enemy they are going to face."I know it is early, but we should address this matter immediately…please call Tormund and the others and Ser Davos to the Shieldhall…I will get my sister and her companions."

"Aye," Edd replied curtly. Jon saw that he wanted to add say more, but the words didn't leave his friend's mouth.

Jon sighed deeply and slipped his burned hand into a glove.

"Spit it out…Edd."

"How…nevermind," he replied and moved to the door where he stopped, his gaze still fixed at Jon."I don't know…but you are so different now."

"Death does that to you…," Jon replied, though it was not death that changed.."But thank you for being concerned about me…It is appreciated."

Edd nodded his head and brushed his unruly hair out of his face.

"It just...can't believe that you want to abandon the Night's Watch like this…I know you died…but the vow says for all the nights to come."

Jon smiled and fastened his blade on his belt, before turning back to Edd.

"Aye, I remember, but defeating the Boltons is the only way we will get the help we need. I will return…I promise."

"And who will be your replacement?" Edd asked."Someone has to take the role of Lord Commander."

Jon laughed. Edd was oblivious as always.

"Well, there you are…old friend. I can't think of someone better for this role than you. You know the enemy…I trust you recall Hardhome."

"Gods don't remind me of that nightmare!" Edd grumbled and held the door open for him to pass through."I shouldn't have asked. That is what you get for being concerned."

Jon chuckled and made his way back to his old chambers, Ser Donal Noye's smithy. It was not exactly a place meant for a lady, but Sansa didn't complain nor did her companions.

He knocked at the door, before stepping inside. He found Sansa and Lady Mormont already awake. Lady Mormont leaned against the wall, sharpening her ax while Sansa was occupied with her long braid of red hair.

"Good morning, brother," she greeted him and pulled her cloak over her shoulder."What brings you here this early?"

"We got a raven," he explained curtly and pulled the raven scroll from his vest. Her eyes widened at the sight and he face paled.

"Bolton," she muttered and he gave her a confirming nod."I called everyone to the Shieldhall. They need to learn about their enemy."

She exhaled deeply and gave a hesitant nod.

"Very well," she added and rose to her feet."Let us hear what _he_ has to tell us."

The others were already awaiting them when they entered. There were Tormund, Val, Soren Shieldbreaker, the Magnar of Thenn and many other members of the Free Folk assembled. Lady Brienne and Podrick joined them soon after. Jon knew that she was drilling the boy from morning to late evening, hoping to turn him into a proper knight.

"I received a love letter from Ramsay Bolton!" he declared and unfurled the letter, before reading out loud.

 _To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow,_

 _Your false King is dead, bastard. He and his host were smashed in battle. Your false King's friends are dead as well, their heads mounted atop the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false King lied and so did you. You told the world you burned the King-Beyond the-Wall. Instead you sent him to Winterfell to steal my bride. Send her back to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your Wildling friends. Keep her from me and I will ride North to slaughter every wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. If that is not enough reason, bastard then come and see your brother, locked in my dungeon. If you want the King-Beyond-the-Wall too, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the North to see, another proof of you lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell. Send my bride to me and I will not trouble you, but keep her from me, and I will cut your bastard's heart and eat it._

 _Ramsay Bolton, Trueborn Lord of Winterfell._

Sansa looked was utterly silent, the wildlings grumbled among each other and Ser Davos nodded his head in understanding. The letter only confirmed what he already knew. King Stannis was defeated, though Jon was sure that Lady Melisandre neglected to tell him about Princess Shireen's fate.

Tormund was the first to speak.

"Mance lives?" he his blue eyes full of disbelief."Is it true what this cunt writes in his letter?"

"Aye," Jon confirmed hesitatingly."But it wasn't my idea to stage this mummery. It was Lady Melisandre who saved Mance's life. The man who burned was Rattleshirt and his appearance was changed through the Lady's magick. I only found out later. The Lady Melisandre revealed her mummery to me shortly before the King's departure and informed about my sister's wedding to Ramsay Bolton. Mance offered to help my sister if I bring his people safely pass the Wall. I would done so anyway, but I was desperate...thus he and six spearwives went to Winterfell to free her. I owe him and intend to save him if it is possible."

His words earned him both approval from the Wildlings while Sansa remained silent, realization dawning on her face.

"The man who saved me and his girls," she muttered to herself."That was the King-Beyond-the Wall?"

"Aye," he confirmed and braced himself on the table."That was Mance and now he is a prisoner of Ramsey Bolton," he added and let his gaze sweep over the assembled members of the Free Folk."You heard his threats. He wants to murder your wives and children. He tortured your King and made skins out of your brave spearwives. I know it is much to ask, but we will have no other choice, but to to fight if we want to survive."

"What do you say?"

Grumbling and whispering could be heard, but that was no surprise to him. It took Mance years to unite them under his banner…

"I don't know about the others, but you have my axe, Lord Crow. I will not sit here at the Wall while this Bolton bastard keeps Mance prisoner," Tormund declared loudly and smashed his fist on the table.

Then he turned to look at the others.

"What about you, fuckers? Will you fight or sit here like cowards?"

"Lord Snow has my spear," the Magnar of Thenn agreed without much bravado.

"Mine as well," Soren Shieldbreaker added."I promised to follow Mance."

Val grinned.

"You don't even have to ask…you should know that, Lord Crow."

Many more followed, the sound of their approval filled ringing in his ears. He envied their optimism, completely unaware of the bloody future that lies ahead.

"I thank you," he replied and meant it with all his heart."I am thankful for every spear."

"Spare us your words of gratitude, Lord Crow," Soren Shieldbreaker added."We are going to fight for you, but I doubt the remaining Fee Folk will be enough when this King was smashed by this Bolton bastard."

Jon nodded his head in understanding.

"I have already sent out several ravens. We will know in time how many of the Lords of the North recall their loyalty to my father," he replied knew that not many of them will come to join them. Last time it were only the Hornwoods and the remnants of House Mormont and Cerwyn who heard their call. Many of the others feared for their loved ones taken hostage at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly among them. Yet Lord Umber falsely pretended to serve House Bolton. The true traitor was Arnulf Karstark and his son Cregan. It was him who stabbed King Stannis in the back and turned his cloak. Jon didn't regret killing him for his treachery and for what he did to his own niece. Alys Karstark was forcefully married by her Uncle to stake a claim on the Karstark lands. Her death during the Long Night another tragedy. She perished when the White Walkers rolled over Karhold...

Jon sighed deeply and brushed those dark deep thoughts away, before they were able to cloud his mind.

"There are also the Mountain Clans…I intend to recruit them to our cause, though it is more likely that they will curse me for bringing Wildlings beyond the Wall. If we are lucky they will recall their loyalty to my Lord Father."

Then exhaled deeply, before continuing to speak.

"That is all I can say for now…I apologize for tearing you away from your duties. You may leave."

Thus the meeting was done and only Sansa and Jon remained. Ser Davos had observed the whole meeting in deadly silence while the Lady Melisandre remained in her chambers. She has avoided him since their last interaction and continued to watch her flames…

Ser Davos was not much better. It seems their talk spooked the old man. This pained him, for he valued the man's council.

"Why didn't you tell me about your friend?" Sansa asked him afterwards as they sat down to eat supper. Val had joined them in company of Lady Mormont, Lady Brienne and Tormund."This Mance…the one you sent to save me."

In truth Jon simply forgot to mention it. Even now his mind was often confused and he was sure that it will take him more time to come to terms with this new reality he is living in.

"I forgot…," he replied honestly and took a sip from the bitter ale."I apologize."

"There is nothing to apologize for," she assured him and leaned closer, keeping her voice intentionally low."You told me that Lord Baelish will inform me soon, but so far he hasn't contacted me…

She doubts me, he was sure.

"He will," he assured her and pushed the bowl away. The broth was horrible or maybe it was a side-effect of his resurrection that he lacked appetite."Wait and see."

…

 **Sansa**

Sansa watched as Lady Brienne and Podrick continued their training. The clinking sound of the metal made her feel safe, though it was a rather one-sided fight. Arya would have laughed about the boy's clumsiness, but Sansa could only admire his resilience. Whenever he landed on his bottom he pulled himself back to his feet and continued much to Lady Brienne's satisfaction.

"I think Tormund is in love," Val the Wildling Princess snickered, her spear in hand. For some reason the young woman took it upon herself to keep her company. Not that Sansa minded, but the young woman was usually not the kind of person she spends time with. She is a fighter, but also has something refined about her that differentiated her from the other members of the Free Folk.

"It seems so," she replied and inclined her head to get a better look at the bearded man everybody called Tormund Giantsbane. He was very big, graced with bright red hair and grinned like a fool whenever Lady Brienne knocked her squire to the ground."Though I don't think Lady Brienne shares his affections…"

"Can't fault her for that…Tormund is a mad…ask his many wives," Val replied and chuckled in amusement.

"Many wives?" Sansa asked and wrinkled her brow in confusion."Is it common for Wildlings to have more than one wife?"

Val broke out in laughter.

"Gods no," she replied and tapped her spear on the muddy ground beneath her boots."They left him one after another and found themselves better men. They weren't able to put up with him."

"I see," Sansa replied, though it was hard for her to understand these strange customs of the Free Folk."That sounds freeing…"

Val gave a silent nod and directed her attention back to the sparring Lady Brienne and her squire Podrick. Sansa finished the last stitches on her torn travelling cloak and made her way back to her chambers, where she found Lady Mormont snoring.

Quietly she slipped out of the room and nearly ran over one of Jon's friends.

"Forgive me, my M'Lady," the man apologized."I didn't see…"

"No need," she assured him and tried to recall his name."Edd, right?"

"Eddison Tollett," he said and dipped his head."But everyone calls me Edd…you may as well if it pleases you, M'Lady. Well, that is not why I came here…," he added and flushed.

Sansa didn't know what to make of his words and forced a smile over her lips.

"Can I help you?"

"Not me…one of the ladies in Mole's Town…she asked me to give you this letter and told me to inform you that a friend of yours is awaiting you. I didn't know what to make of that, but I don't delve into other people's business."

"Ah…the ladies of Mole's town," she remarked and realized at once why he blushed like that."Thank you…I will read the letter."

With a beating heart she returned to her chambers and read the letter carefully while Lady Mormont continued to snore.

The swirling letters sent a jolt through her body and made her want to burn it at once.

Yet what spooked her even more was that Jon's prediction came true.

 _Lord Baelish wants to meet me in Mole's Town_ , she knew and shuddered. Then she recalled her promise to Jon and gathered her courage, though it took her a moment to decide what to do.

She didn't want to wake Lady Mormont and decided to seek out Lady Brienne.

"What can I do for you, my Lady?" she asked as she continued to sharpen her blade.

"Would you mind accompanying me to Mole's Town?"

Brienne gave her a strange look, but didn't refuse her wish outrightly.

"What do you want to do in Mole's Town, my Lady?"

She smiled and pursed her lips."I need to meet someone…Jon knows about it. I can't go alone though."

"I see," Lady Brienne replied and sheathed her blade, before bowing her head in acceptance."I am at your service, my Lady."

When they arrived in Mole's Town they found mostly ruins. Jon told her that the Wildlings raided the town, but this was not what she expected to find when she thought of a brothel. There was maybe a handful of girls to pick from, most of them thin and dressed in shabby dresses.

It was here that she saw Petyr Baelish again, appearing from the shadows like a vulture.

Sansa shivered, but forced a smile over her lips as she stepped forward to meet him.

He looked concerned, though Sansa was not sure if was not just another mummery. _He fooled me into marrying Ramsay_ , she reminded herself and kept on smiling.

From the corner of her eye she noticed Lady Brienne touching her blade, but Sansa winked with her hand to still her sword. Jon asked of her to bring him to their cause and she intended to keep her promise.

"No need, my Lady. Lord Baelish is a friend."

This seemed to reassure him, because a moment later a smile curled on his lips. Sansa wanted to slap it from his face, but she remained patient.

"My Lady," he said, his eyes flickering to Lady Brienne."You cannot begin to understand how relieved I am to see you unharmed. When I found out the horrible truth I was deeply worried."

"Ramsay Bolton is a monster," she remarked, her voice taking a strangely numb sound. Dark memories came whirling back into her mind, but she brushed them away like the sun casts away the shadows…

 _I need to compose myself_ , she told herself and tried her best to play the role she intended for herself. It was not hard to conjure false tears. She has perfected that talent over the years.

"I can only apologize," he repeated and dipped his head. For a moment she believed him, but then she recalled Ramsay's grimace, haunting her through the broken walls of the hovel."But I came here to offer you revenge. I promised to make you Queen and I stand by that…for the love I bore your mother."

 _You never loved her_ , she wanted to shout at him but swallowed down her disgust, before stepping towards him.

"And how could you have known?" she asked and sobbed to increase the dramatic effect."He is a man who hides his cruelty behind charming smiles...not unlike Prince Joffrey. You were right. I am nothing more than a foolish little girl."

It took only the blink of a moment and she felt his slender fingers wrap around her hands, a smile lightening up his face.

"Oh, do not weep, my Lady," he said and brushed her tears away."Someone as beautiful as you shouldn't blemish his face with tears."

 _Then you shouldn't have allowed me to wed Ramsay Bolton_ , she wanted to snap back, but forced herself to squeeze her hand.

This was all the assurance he needed and he move closer to pull her into a tender embrace.

She brushed her hand over his shoulder and gave him a tearful smile."I apologize...I shouldn't have lost my composure."

Lord Baelish smiled like a star and bowed his head deeply.

"No need for apologies, my lady. Four-thousands knights are at my disposal. They are awaiting your command, my Lady."

Sansa was stunned.

"But how? Moat Cailin is in the hands of the Boltons?"

He smiled brightly.

"Lord Royce was kind enough to contact his friend Lord Howland Reed to lead us through the Neck. It was a rather tedious affair, but worth it if brings a smile to your lips, my Lady."

His words were like cold water and she couldn't help but to freeze.

 _Gods, Jon told the truth_.

"Are you feeling sick, my Lady?" Lord Baelish asked and brushed his hands over her shoulders.

She recognized her mistake and tried to appear as relieved as possible. She clutched her chest and sighed deeply.

"I must thank you again, my Lord. My bastard brother can only field about two-thousand Wildlings. He thinks others will soon join our cause, but he is too optimistic...I fear it will not be enough."

"Of course," Lord Baelish said and squeezed her hand."The Knights of the Vale are yours…I will not leave your fate in the hands of your bastard brother and a band of savages."

She swallowed down her gagging reflex and placed a kiss to his cheek.

"I thank you, my Lord," she whispered softly."Your service to the North will not be forgotten."

"There is no need for thanks, my Lady," he replied and brushed his hand over her cheek."And I bring even happier news. It seems your Uncle the Blackfish has retaken Riverrun. Once this dreadful business in the North is dealt with we can move to the Riverlands to help your Grand-Uncle…," he continued, while her mouth started to hurt from the false smiles.

"That makes my heart sing, my Lord," she replied softly."But first we need to free the North."

"Aye, my Lady," he confirmed, although unwillingly. He probably hoped that she might stay longer."But I understand your urgency to return…least your bastard brother could hear about your absence. I trust he doesn't know about me?"

"No," she replied."Jon is a stranger to me…I only trust Lady Brienne."

"That is good to know," he said and finally let go of her shoulder."I suppose this is goodbye…we will see each other in Winterfell."

"In Winterfell," she confirmed with a last smile.

When he was finally gone she sagged against the wall, though Lady Brienne was quickly at her side to steady her.

"Well played, my Lady," she complimented her afterwards when she helped her up on her horse."And the news about Riverrun should help to strengthen our resolve."

"Indeed," she agreed.

Hours later they returned to Castle Black. The sun had already disappeared beyond the horizon and Jon sat grouched over a heap of maps when they found him. Ser Davos was also there, a hesitant smile showing on his lips when he spotted her. The Wildling Princess was also there and so was Tormund, who grinned like a love-drunken fool when he saw Lady Brienne. Lady Mormont nearly choked on her cup of wine, but Lady Brienne remained cold as ever.

"I leave you then, my Lady. Podrick has need of me."

"Of course."

Then she shifted her attention back to Jon.

"You should have told me that you are going to Mole's Town," he remarked and tapped his fingers on the table.

"I apologize," she replied and felt taken back by his cold tone, but it was then that the horrible truth became reality to her. _The horrors he must have seen_ , she thought and tried to wrap her head around the fact that this young man there was not the brother she knew, but someone who died, returned and knew about the dark future ahead of them."But…I bring good news."

She pulled the letter out of her vest and handed it to Jon, who was reading while she continued to explain.

"Lord Baelish contacted me…he has four-thousand Vale knights at his disposal and he promised to join them with our host to drive the Bolton's out of Winterfell."

Jon nodded his head and smashed the letter on the table. It made a violent thud that made Sansa shiver and earned him strange looks from the others.

"Aren't those good news?" Ser Davos asked.

"Good," Jon muttered through gritted teeth."But I would prefer to cut Lord Baelish's head from his shoulders instead of taking his help. Well, beggars can't be choosers."

Sansa held a grudge against the man, but the way Jon spoke about him made her believe that it was more than a grudge that her brother held against the man. _There is something he isn't telling me,_ she thought and recalled their talk after her arrival. He had told her that she executed Petyr Baelish for his many crimes. She supposed he meant the murder of Lady Arryn, but her feeling told her otherwise.

 _Later_ , she told herself and braced herself on the table.

"There are more good news, brother," she added gently."The Blackfish has retaken Riverrun."

"I see," he said, a strange expression showing on his features. _He knew this as well_ , she deduced and shuddered."That is good to hear, but not much use to us. It would take weeks to come here and I intend to depart in a few days."

"I agree, but I want to send Lady Brienne to relay a message to my Grand-Uncle."

He paled and bit his lips, before giving his approval.

"Very well, send Lady Brienne," he replied and pondered for a moment. Then he lifted his head and met her gaze."Would you mind if I wrote him a few lines?"

She didn't know what to make of that. Jon didn't even know the Blackfish nor did she believe that he would appreciate a massage from her father's bastard son, but then Jon knew much more than her.

"No, but Lady Brienne wants to leave early. The ride to Riverrun is long and hard."

…

 **Author's note:**

 **Thank you for your reviews. If you have questions please feel free to ask.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Jon**

Edd woke Jon at dawn, because several ravens were calling for his attention. It was Edd who took care of them these days, but the messages were meant for him and he was quickly on his feet to follow after his old friend. The rookery was only a few steps above in Maester Aemon's old tower, but Jon slept downstairs due to the pleasant hearth and the smell of raven shit lingering above. It made him think of Sam, Maester Aemon and sometimes even Maester Luwin.

"How many?" he asked Edd.

"Three," Edd replied and handed him the scrolls. Jon lit a candle and sat down to read one after another. The replies didn't fill him with confidence. Lady Cerwyn can only promise a few hundred men at most. The leader of the remaining Hornwood men promised to join them "in honor of the murdered Lady Hornwood" and at last young Lady Lyanna Mormont promised another hundred men to help her sister Alysanne. Jon did the calculations and counted three-thousand fighting men, an inkling more than last time, but not enough…

Yet the Mountain Clans remain, though Jon fears their reaction to the Wildling host he means to march through their lands. Last time they took another route as Jon made haste to save his brother, but this time he intended to be more careful…

Thinking of the boy Ramsay Bolton used to lure him on the battlefield never failed to make Jon shudder. Sometimes he dreamed of his smashed body, his pale face staring back at him with empty eyes. Nobody knew his name or where he came from. Thus Jon buried him in Winterfell…

"Lord Snow," Ser Davos's voice snapped him out of his deep thoughts."I apologize for the interruption."

Jon smiled hesitatingly.

"No need, Ser Davos. I was hoping you would come to speak to me," he replied and put the scrolls away. Then he rose to his feet and opened the window. Instantly, a rush of fresh air streamed into the room, but the icy air helped to clear his mind."I need your advice."

"I don't think it is my place…," Ser Davos protested, but Jon shook his head.

"I was thinking about sending and envoy to White Harbor, but I am not sure if it would be much use."

"White Harbor?" Ser Davos asked."You wrote a letter to Lord Manderly, didn't you? Did he refuse to reply?"

"Aye, I did," Jon confirmed."He didn't help us last time…but I hoped…," he continued, but stopped himself when he realized what he was saying.

"That it wouldn't be like last time," Ser Davos ended for him, his grey eyes resting on him in an expectant manner.

"Exactly," Jon repeated and tapped his fingers on the table. He was unsure how to continue this conversation. Ser Davos had avoided speaking with him about the matter at hand, but then the man before him saw more magic than most people."Then you believe me?"

"Belief is a hard word, but seeing how upset Lady Melisandre is makes it hard to deny the truth. First she is wrong about King Stannis and now you came back from the dead, calling her visions nonsense. I think you destroyed her belief."

Jon regretted that. He may not hold much love for the Lady, but he knew that she will be needed for the coming war.

"I was merely stating the truth," he replied and eyed the rug on the floor.

"I spoke to the Lady…she told me that you referred to this resurrection as your second resurrection and that she made you sacrifice someone, but that it failed."

Instantly, Jon felt the urge to send the man on his way. The pain was still too raw, but then he knew that he needed to get accustomed to this new reality.

He took a deep breath and forced the words over his lips.

"I sacrificed my wife," he admitted and lifted his head to meet the older man's gaze."She agreed, but I still have her blood on my hands."

"Your wife?" Ser Davos asked and wrinkled his brows in confusion, realization showing on his face."Gods…that sounds like utter madness."

"It was," he admitted, all the pain and suffering flowing out of him."But we were all dying…it was the last act in a war that had lasted for three whole years…three years dying."

The old man stroked his beard, a serious expression washing over his face. Even in his other life he remained composed to the bitter end. He evacuated thousands of people to Essos, though even they soon learned of the bitter fruits of winter. Food grew scarce and the people of Essos had nothing to spare for the survivors coming from the cursed other side of the world.

"Well, then Lady Melisandre was at least right about something," the old man remarked sarcastically."These three years really sound like nights full of darkness and terror."

Jon gave a bitter laugh, but it felt good to be able to speak openly. Maybe he and the old knight will be able to build a similar friendship like they shared in his past incarnation.

"The darkness was not the worst, but the hunger and the cold. To see people starving to death and mothers killing their own children…even this Ramsay Bolton pales compared to that horror."

"Gods!" the old man cursed."That sounds grim…I am not sure if I am supposed to ask this…How did I perish?"

"Your ship sank," Jon replied, hoping that will make the old man believe him. He had need of confidants.

"My ship?" he asked. He obviously expected something more gory.

For some reason, that amused Jon.

"Not as glorious as expected. You made it your task to ship survivors to Essos and continued with that task until the bitter end. One day you didn't return. We just assumed your ship sank. Gendry was heartbroken."

The man's eyes nearly dropped out of his head, but Jon revealed that information intentionally. Ser Davos was not the most open-hearted man when it came to his past, but Arya was always very thankful that he saved Gendry's life. It was Arya who told him about it.

"Gendry," he muttered and grabbed the table."How do you know about the boy?"

Thinking about his sister's friend made him smile.

"He was a fine friend, brave and strong…a true Baratheon, though only the bastard of a tavern wench as he never failed to remind me."

"Fuck…fuck!" the old man cursed and nearly pushed the candle from the table."Then it is true…it is all true."

Then he stilled and flashed Jon and apologetic look.

"Forgive my cursing, but this is…," he trailed off.

"Unbelievable?"

"Fucking mad," Ser Davos muttered."No wonder you were rambling like a madman. It is a wonder that you are still sane…How do you manage it?"

 _How_ , Jon wondered. _Why haven't I yet snapped like my mad grandfather?_

"Madness would not serve me. I got another chance...I will make use of it," he tried to explain his reasoning.

"I suppose we all have to make the best of it," Ser Davos agreed with him, though his face showed discomfort.

When Jon opened his mouth to reply Edd entered the room in company of Sansa.

"There is a girl at the gates…she demands to speak with Lord Commander Snow," Edd explained and Sansa nodded her head, her red braid bobbing around her shoulder like a snake.

"I don't know, but she is strangely familiar," Sansa added softly as they led him outside.

Said girl sat perched on a haggard horse, her face long and even-shaped. She was quite tall too and very skinny, with the look of a wild colt about her. Her grey-blue eyes showed recognition when she laid eyes on him.

"Lord Commander Snow," she greeted and climbed from her horse. She dipped her head in respect, her skirts and cloak fluttering around her and her dark curls soon covered in snowflakes.

"Alys Karstark," Jon replied and recalled the girl's face frozen in death, her eyes blue as frost.

The girl smiled and nodded her head in confirmation.

"Aye, that is me. I am Alys Karstark, the only daughter of Rickard Karstark, who your brother the Young Wolf executed in Riverrun."

Jon winced at the mention of his brother. His death felt like a lifetime ago…

She seemed to sense his discomfort and smiled apologetically.

"Don't fret about the past, my Lord. I came here to ask for help and not to take revenge for my Lord Father's death. He betrayed his oath and died for it. As I said, I came here to ask for protection."

Jon knew from whom she needed protection, but it was all wrong. She shouldn't be here. She ought to be long married to her cousin Cregan Karstark. But maybe that is a sign that things are changing for the better?

"Jon," Sansa called out to him and touched his shoulder."Maybe we should go inside. It is freezing cold."

"Of course," Jon replied and led the way. He stirred the fire and asked Edd to bring a cup of mulled wine, which Lady Alys eagerly consumed.

"Thank you…I needed that," she replied, an impish grin crossing her lips as she regarded Jon. The Alys Karstark he knew was much colder, but she was also forcefully married to her cousin and this one escaped this fate."I am also surprised that you remember me, Lord Snow."

Jon didn't know about she was talking about, but then his memories were sometimes blurry. Yet he couldn't tell her that and feigned ignorance.

"It is a pleasure to meet you again, my Lady. Against whom are you seeking protection?"

"My Uncle joined hands with the Boltons and wants me to wed his son to stake a claim on the Karstark lands. Well, I have no interest in such a match and stole myself away in the middle of the night. Now I am here and you are the only one who can help me."

 _But how_ , Jon wondered for a moment and pondered over the whole dilemma. If he keeps her here they will eventually come to take her back, though he doubted they would able to take the Wall. Ramsay Bolton was sprouting big words, but it would be suicide and he knew from experience that the Bastard of Bolton is no fool. Slowly, an idea began blooming in his head..

After he was name King in the North he intended to arrange marriages between the Free Folk and the North, to bind the two sides stronger together, but the arrival of the White Walkers destroyed all his plans. Most of these marriages didn't concern someone as highborn as Lady Alys, but it was a thought worth considering. It would weaken her Uncle's position if Jon counted his niece among his ranks to dispute his claim.

Yet she would need a strong husband. The first person that came to his mind was Tormund, but he was old and was father to several children. Such a match wouldn't win much favor. No, it needed to be someone younger an unwed…

Then it hit him, a hesitant smile curling on his lips as he regarded the girl.

"You say you don't want to marry your cousin," he remarked hesitatingly."Would you mind wedding someone else? I have someone in mind, but he is a Wildling lord."

Surprisingly, the girl appeared intrigued.

"Wildling lord or not…at least he is not my depraved cousin. I would rather wed a heap of horseshit than him."

"The Magnar of Thenn is not much older than you, my Lady. He is a strong and commands several hundred men. He will be a good husband to you."

"Sounds intriguing," she replied, her wolfish grin plastered on her lips."When will I be wed?"

"You are quite hasty, my Lady," he couldn't help but to remark."But all we would need is a tree...there is a heart tree not far from Castle Black. It can be done tonight."

"If you knew my cousin you would understand my hastiness, my Lord," she replied and smoothed her dirty dress."Tonight suits me just fine, though I suppose this will have to be my wedding dress."

A rumble of laughter escaped him after he heard her words. Arya said something similar on her wedding day...

"That won't be necessary," Sansa provided quickly, a smile curling on her lips."I am sure we can find a better dress for you. A lady weds only once and it should be a happy day."

The smile didn't help to hide his sister's sadness. The Sansa he knew received a dozen of marriage proposal after she was named Lady of the Dreadfort, but she rebuffed everyone of them. Jon never dared to ask her about it, but he always believed it had to do with Ramsay Bolton…

"That would be wonderful," Lady Alys replied, recognition showing on her face."Forgive my surprise…but I didn't recognize you at once, my Lady. How could I be so blind…you are the very image of your late Lady mother."

A tight smile showed on Alys Karstark's lips as she regarded Sansa more closely as if to make sure she is unharmed.

 _She knows_ , Jon was sure, but kept his mouth shut.

"It is good to find you here and far away from the Bastard of Bolton. I heard he is a vile creature. I suppose we had the same idea, though I heard you had less luck than me…," Lady Alys added more softly.

Sansa paled a little, but kept her composure.

"Your concern is appreciated, but we should make sure that you look like a proper bride."

"Of course," Lady Alys replied and left with Sansa while Jon went to inform the Magnar of Thenn about his approaching wedding. A task he dreaded.

"Is the girl at least pretty?" the Magnar of Thenn wanted to know. Tormund was not far, snickering in company of the other men.

"She is pretty to look upon, but more importantly…you will be the future Lord of Karhold and her Uncle's position will be weakened. He is one of the traitors supporting the Bastard of Bolton. It is also a step to bridge the distance between the Free Folk and the North. I know it is much, but I am sure Mance would agree with me."

"Very well," the Magnar of Thenn grumbled."I agree."

"Good," Jon replied and felt relief washing over him."Then prepare yourself. It will be done tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Aye, tonight…the girl is rather hasty."

Jon's comment earned him howling laughter from the other men.

"See…your bride is anxious for you to unsheathe your sword, Sigorn!" Tormund added and the other men howled with laughter.

The Magnar of Thenn ignored the all.

"It will be done as you say, Lord Crow."

A thin silver moon stood on the inky sky to watch over the wedding. Sansa was also able to find a dress for the bride. It was grey and suited a practical girl like Alys Karstark.

The ceremony itself was brief and later they had a small feast. Sigorn's men went hunting in the evening and killed several rabbits that were roasted over open fires. There was also plenty of wine and bitter ale served to the guests.

Alys Karstark grinned from ear to the other when one of the wedding guests pulled out a strange lute made of bones and started to play a song for the bride and the groom.

It was a song in the Old Tongue and Val was kind enough to translate the verses for Sansa and Lady Mormont.

Jon should be happy, but he felt a deep melancholy settling over him that he was unable to brush off.

The drunken guests and the smiling bride made him think of his own wedding, before the dawn of battle…

"You look like someone pissed on you, Lord Crow," Val interrupted his thoughts, her hair was open for a change and falling around her face like a curtain of gold.

After his first resurrection Val and he shared a bed and while it had only lasted for a few weeks until the fateful battle against the Bastard of Bolton, he couldn't deny that he he felt affection for her, but then it was much the same with Ygritte. They had a few precious moons and he believed himself in love with her, his heart longing for her wit. Maybe that is why he was infatuated with Val in the first place…she reminded him of Ygritte, only more beautiful. Now he felt only numbness...as if his second resurrection robbed him off his warm feelings for the two girls. Beric once told him that every resurrection takes more from you than the one before...

Daenerys was another matter. He sill loves her, but he has his doubts that this Daenerys will remember him. He will seek her out anyway if he is able to survive the following weeks.

"Jon," Val said more softly and squeezed his shoulder."Are you sick?"

"No," he replied and shook his head, before rising to his feet."I am only tired…I think I will ride back to Castle Black…we will march on the morrow and I need my rest. I trust that you will escort my sister back to the Wall?"

"Aye," she confirmed and gave him a warm smile."But I would rather accompany you. As you said yourself…we will march tomorrow…"

He knew what she meant, but he was no longer this other boy who had crawled into her bed to still the rage caused by the betrayal that cost his life.

"I am tired," he repeated, the smile now gone from her lips and exchanged with a frown.

"What happened to you, Lord Crow?" she asked then, her voice half-drowned out by the howling wind."You are so different from the boy I knew."

She meant the boy that had longingly stared at her, but that boy died a long time ago.

"I don't know," he admitted honestly, a painful smile crossing over his lips as he recalled Maester Aemon's words. _Kill the boy and let the man be born_."But I am not the same person anymore…you will find someone better than me."

The serious expression taking hold of her face told him that she understood.

"As you say, Lord Crow, but I will miss the boy."

 _Me too_ , Jon thought and left them to their merry songs. _They deserve it._

When he arrived back at Castle Black Ghost was already waiting for him, his ruby eyes glittering in the candlelight.

The sight filled him reassurance and he knelt down to stroke his head.

"At least you recognize me, don't you, boy?"

The gentle lick on his burned hand told him everything he needed to know. For Ghost it didn't matter if he was resurrected a thousand times, if his name was Jon Snow or Aemon Targaryen, if he was a Prince or a Bastard…

...

 **Author notes:**

 **ssjmrxi= Yes, Val and Jon will be friends. I put her into the story, because I like her character. She is also important for Mance. She is his sister-in-law and his son exists in this story, though he was not baby-swapped like in the books. He lives with a nursemaid.**

 **iia-ff-2= I will actually post it on Archive of our Own, but I have yet to receive an account confirmation. That will take time**.

 **SkiingKracken= This part was referring to Samwell Tarly's father. Jon was mentioning how Sam told him in a rather sarcastic manner that his father's death by dragonfire was kind compared to their suffering during the Long Night.**

 **fire1= Jon knows about his real father Rhaegar Targaryen and it will be important later in the story. You will see : )**

 **Guest= Littlefinger is pretty much fucked...**

 **In regards to Jon's name: I was pondering several names, even Aegon, but I went with Aemon in the end because I like it better. I think it is fifty-fifty that Jon might have the name Aegon in the books, but I don't have to follow that path. Jon is still Jon though. He will not call himself Aemon. It is more symbolic.**

 **As always, thank you for the comments. Ask questions if you like.**

 **...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sansa**

Lord Hugo Wull was the biggest man Sansa ever laid eyes own, but his small dark eyes were even more disconcerting to her. Especially, when he noticed the Wildlings a dark expression took hold of his face. The Wull lands are often victim to Wildling raids, which is another reason Jon took only the most prominent Wildlings leaders to meet the leaders of the Mountain Clans. There was Tormund, the Magnar of Thenn and his wife Alys Karstark, Val and a handful of others, though Sansa had the feeling the number was already too much for Lord Wull's taste.

"Lord Commander Snow," Lord Wull greeted Jon, perched on his long-haired horse."What madness possessed you to bring Wildings to my lands?"

If Jon was afraid it didn't show on his face. He simply lowered his head in greeting and explained the matter.

"Nobody denies that the Free Folk committed crimes against your people, but they are prepared to accept our laws. They left their old ways behind them and are now prepared to help us in retaking Winterfell from the Bolton traitors."

"That is what they told you," Thorgen Flint grumbled. He was a stout, gruff man with gnarled, red-knuckled hands as big as hams."Why should we take the promise of these Wildlings…and that of an oathbreaker for the truth? You say they have changed, but I am a man who takes actions for the truth. One of them carried off my daughter's child not many years ago. Where is she I ask? Probably raped and murdered by some Wildlings scum."

Then he spit on the muddy ground, his dark eyes fixed at Jon.

This earned him grumbled curses from the Wildlings, but Jon was quick to silence them with the wink of his hand.

"I can't bring your daughter's child back to you, but the Wildling who committed this crime was not the only scum to soil the North. Ramsay Bolton murdered and raped his way through the Hornwood lands without facing justice. It was the late Roose Bolton who buried his blade into my brother's heart and now his bastard son calls himself Warden of the North. I am well aware of the crimes committed by the Free Folk and if it were avoidable I would fight the Boltons without their help, but the facts remain unchanged. The armies my brother commanded are gone and the few that remain are either loyal to the Boltons or are bound to remain silent because of the hostages taken at the Red Wedding. Lord Stark always said that we need to stand together when winter comes. Winter is here and now it is time to put our past grudges behind us. I am not asking you to forgive and forget, but I will not send willing fighters away when I have need of them."

"You still didn't answer Lord Wull's question," another man remarked. Sansa recognized him as Lord Norrey."Why should we believe the word of an oathbreaker?" Lord Norrey asked, his face a grimace of mistrust.

Sansa was unable to remain silent and pulled her cloak down, revealing her presence to them. Lord Wull, Lord Norrey and Lord Flint were often guests at her father's table and while she herself had hardly interacted with them in the past she was sure that they will recognize her resemblance to her Lady mother.

"My brother is no oathbreaker, my Lords," she said, her voice hoarse from the cold."What he is doing is in interest of the Night's Watch and the North. Ramsay Bolton threatened the Night's Watch and my life. Like all of you I was skeptical about the Free Folk, but I have gotten to know them over the last weeks…they were nothing but kind and respectful towards me. They didn't want to pass the Wall to pillage our lands, but because they are trying to escape an enemy that makes no difference between us and them.

Jon gave her a sharp look, but the truth was out and there was no point of return.

"Enemy?" Lord Norrey asked, his brows wrinkled in confusion."What enemy are you speaking of, my Lady?"

"The White Walkers," Jon replied with a heavy sigh. She knew he wanted to avoid this.

"White Walkers?" Lord Hugo Wull asked and gave her a look of utter disbelief."Is that a jest? Do you take us for fools, my Lady. I respected your father…," he continued, but was interrupted by Lady Alysanne Mormont.

"My Grand-Uncle was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and he believed in their existence," she argued."Do you want to call my Grand-Uncle a liar?"

"No, my Lady," Lord Wull replied, his eyes widening in recognition."But it is a surprise that someone of House Mormont makes common cause with Wildlings."

"I hold no love for the Wildings who raided our lands, but throwing them all into the same bucket is not the way my mother raised me. I will judge men by their deeds and these Wildlings here are prepared to shed their blood for the North. What more proof do you need?"

"Lady Mormont speaks true," Thorgen Flint admitted, which took Sansa completely off guard."I say we hear what the Lord Commander has to say," he continued, his gaze darting to Sansa."I hold no love for these Wildlings, but I won't deny the guest right to Ned Stark's children."

Sansa sighed in relief and gave the man a thankful smile.

"I thank you, my Lord."

Jon followed suit and dipped his head, though no smile showed on his pale lips.

"You have my thanks."

"Very well," Lord Wull grumbled his approval."But you better have every one of these Wildlings eat your bread and salt, before you allow them into your halls."

"Do they even understand this kind of custom?" Lord Norrey asked and snorted.

"We know," the Magnar of Thenn answered, his eyes narrowed in distrust."We of the Free Folk have a similar custom. A man who eats at another man's table shall not be harmed…or the gods will curse him forever."

"Good," Lord Thorgen Flint added grimly."Though the guest right means nothing these days. The Freys shat upon it when they murdered your brother, the Young Wolf. I will demand your weapons as well. Can you accept that condition, Lord Commander?"

"Aye," Jon replied and touched his blade. The thought of parting with it seemed to upset him, but that was not much of a surprise to her. She hardly ever saw him without his blade. Sometimes she wondered if he even took it to bed."I can accept that and the Free Folk will do the same."

Flint's Keep was a stout building made of wood, clay and stones. It was not a mighty castle, but well-protected by sharp palisades and a moat curling around the walls.

As promised they gave up their weapons, though a few of the Wildlings made their disagreement known to her brother.

Jon was able to calm them, but the tension was there even after every single one of the Wildlings tasted from the salt and bread.

What followed was a meal that included hearty food and lots of ale. Sansa was stunned by the sheer abundance of it.

"Do you think they want to kill us by overfeeding?" Sansa asked Jon, her voice barely above a whisper.

A wry smile showed on his lips.

"Father told me that this is their way to honor guests. Eat and drink as you please….they will take it as an insult if you don't."

"Oh," she said and chuckled."That explains it then. I was afraid..."

"Don't fret about it," he assured her."They would never harm you…they respected father far too much. Their hostility towards the Wildlings is something I expected, but even if they don't help us, it is better to take this route than to march through Last Hearth."

"True," she agreed and took a sip from the bitter ale. It made her wince, but it was leagues better than what the Night's Watch produces."But I still hope we will be able to recruit them to our cause."

"I hope so too," he replied and continued to eat.

Later that evening Lord Flint invited them to speak in private. It was only her, Jon, Sansa, Lord Flint, Lord Wull and Lord Norrey.

"Now Lord Commander," Lord Flint addressed Jon."Tell us about these White Walkers?"

Jon sighed and seemed to brace himself for the usual disbelief.

"I know what I am telling you sounds like utter madness, but I saw these White Walkers and I fought them. Hardhome was only recently destroyed by them and the Wildlings that were killed there serve now their cause. We in the Watch call them wights…dead men who are controlled by the White Walkers. Had I not allowed the Wildlings pass the Wall many more of them would have joined the army of the dead."

Lord Wull stroked his long shaggy beard, his eyes flickering from Jon to Sansa.

"And you believe this, my Lady?" he asked again as if to make sure Sansa meant what she said.

She nodded her head in confirmation.

"I do, my Lord. My brother is not a man prone to lying. He has much of my father."

"There is no denying that Lord Snow has much of Ned, but you have to understand our mistrust…the Wildlings have been our enemies for as long as we know," Lord Norrey countered.

"And Robert Baratheon was once my father's friend," Jon argued."But that didn't keep his alleged son from murdering him. Friends can turn to foes in the blink of a moment. I cannot make up for the pain caused to you by past Wilding raids, but I know that we will all die if we don't stand together and remove the Boltons. Your grudge will not help you against the White Walkers. Believe me or not, I will go and fight the Boltons anyway, but as my sister rightly said….the White Walkers make no difference between you and the Free Folk."

"Well, nobody can deny your courage…that is for certain," Thorgen Flint remarked."You even have a way with words, more so than the Ned. I am even inclined to help you…but I have a few more questions if you don't mind."

"Of course," Jon replied."Ask your questions, my Lord."

"What will you do with the Wildlings once you have retaken Winterfell?"

"Lord Stark always dreamed about repopulating the Gift. There are only a few thousand Wildlings left, but enough to work the lands. Part of the taxes and their harvest will be provided to the Night's Watch and to you as a compensation for their past crimes. I also took child hostages to insure their loyalty. Do not think they don't understand how much the North perceives them as a threat. I am no fool, my Lord. I know there are rapists and murderers among them, but I need them on my side. All I can promise you is this…any trespasses on their side will be severely punished. I am even prepared to swear and oath at the heart tree. I am not an oathbreaker."

"Unacceptable!" Lord Norrey shouted, making his disagreement known."They deserve no lands…," he continued, but Sansa couldn't help but to speak out. She tried to be patient, but the man's stubbornness is beginning to grate on her nerves.

"And yet they ar ready to rise up against the Boltons. Lord Manderly and Lord Umber remain silent and the Karstarks, once loyal bannerman are now sitting at Ramsay Bolton's table, celebrating their betrayal. We know from Lady Alys that her Uncle and his son turned their cloak on Stannis Baratheon when he attempted to rid the North off the Bolton scum," she said and rose to her feet. Not wasting much of a further thought, she discarded her cloak and pulled down the collar of her dress to reveal the blue bruises Ramsay Bolton left on her."It was Mance Ryder and his spearwives who smuggled themselves into Winterfell to save me. Without them I wouldn't stand here, but remain a plaything to Ramsay Bolton. They are dead now…probably skinned alive. The King-Beyond-the-Wall showed my brother more loyalty that many a trueborn Northman when they refused to answer his call. Or do you deny that you received a raven from my brother?"

Utter silence reigned then and even proud Lord Norrey paled. Jon averted his gaze, his hand grabbing the table in anger and turning his knuckles white.

Lord Flint was the first to speak.

"Mance Ryder lives?"

She exhaled deeply and continued to speak, her voice rising with every word.

"He was still alive when he saved me," she replied and rang with her composure as she pulled down the chemise of her dress. There was a nasty burn Ramsay left on her that made even mighty Lord Wull gasp."Ramsay Bolton instilled this on a trueborn daughter of Winterfell, a woman who as supposed to give him legitimacy. What more do you need to hear and see, my Lords? You balk about the rape of your daughters and you speak of loyalty to my father, but you whine about my brother making use of a viable fighting force. Truly, I would have expected better of you."

"Indeed," Lord Flint agreed and lowered his head, his eyes taking a softer hue.

"You speak true, my Lady. I don't love the Wildlings more for it, but you are right to remind us of our loyalty to your father. I don't know what Lord Wull and Lord Norrey will do, but you have my fighting men. What comes after remains open, but I am no man to shun my duty."

"Curse that Bolton bastard!"Lord Wull grumbled, before he slammed his hand on the table."Forcing me to make common cause with Wildlings. That makes me hate the cunt even more. Well, I am an old man…if I have to die and then let me bath in Bolton blood before I join my departed wife."

Then he turned to Norrey, who was still silent.

"Very well," he muttered."I will not be called a coward, but none of this Wildling scum will fight among my men."

Jon, who had been listening to their exchange in grim silence, nodded his head, but Sansa saw the anger glinting in his dark eyes.

"I don't think that will be much of a problem, Lord Norrey. They don't hold much love for you either."

…

 **Davos**

The air was icy cold as they passed the outskirts of the Wolfswood, an endless sea of fir trees streching far and wide. Yet Lord Snow knew his way like a seaman knows the stars and moved them along a narrow path that was supposed to lead them to Deepwood Motte, a castle that was not long ago occupied by the Ironborn. Now it was in the hands of one of the Bastard boys, an infamous group of men serving this Ramsay Bolton.

It was late evening when they finally got the first glimpse of Deepwood Motte. As Lord Snow told them it was nothing more than a wooden keep surrounded by trees and palisades. It would not be hard to lay siege to the castle, but Lord Snow had another plan in mind. Deception.

Said Lord Snow was now stripped of his cloak and bound to Lord Wull's horse. He is meant to be a gift for the current holder of the castle. They even gave him ragged clothes and Lord Snow allowed Tormund Giantsbane to give him a bleeding nose and several blue bruises. The Wildling did this deed with great amusement while Lord Snow bore it with great dignity.

Ser Davos didn't know what make of the boy and his resurrection. He had seen more than most men when it came to magic, but what the boy told him made his blood freeze. No man wanted to hear about his death, but it was this dark future that gave him restless nights.

The woods grew only darker as they approached the drawbridge leading over the moat circling around the castle.

Part of their own men had slipped into the woods to wait for the right moment to join them. The others, which included Davos and Lord Wull made their way towards the watchtower overseeing the drawbridge.

"Who goes there?" one of the guards asked.

"Are you blind?" Lord Wull grumbled and jerked his head at his banner carried by one of his men."I am Lord Hugo Wull. I am here to bring a gift for Lord Bolton."

"A gift?" another man asked and eyed them critically."What gift could that be? And why don't you bring it to Winterfell?"

"Have you seen the sky, man?" he asked and pointed at the clouded sky above."The ride to Winterfell is long, but if your Lord is not interested in getting a hand on Eddard Stark's bastard..."

"Eddard Stark's bastard?" the first man asked in disbelief and stumbled down the steps of the watchtower.

"Aye," Lord Wull confirmed."Do you think I wouldn't know that cursed boy's face?"

"No, of course not," the man said and eyed Lord Snow with great curiosity. Gagged and bound he tried to appear as angry as possible."I will call for the Castellan. He will want to get a look at this one."

"Then hurry up," Wull grumbled and soon the drawbridge was lifted and they were led in inside. The Castle was meagerly manned, which relieved Davos greatly. Less resistance means less bloodshed.

Said Castellan was named Yellow Dick and proved as ugly as his name promised. He was a squat, ill-favored man, who looked like someone kicked him in the balls.

"Who are you?" he asked Lord Wull, lacking any sort of respect.

"I am Lord Wull and I present to you Eddard Stark's bastard son…Jon Snow. He came to my home with a band of Wildlings, demanding my loyalty. I rather cut off my own balls than to help a cursed bastard to bring Wildlings to the North."

This brought an ugly smile to the man's lips and he stepped down from his seat to get a better look at Lord Snow.

"And how can I be sure that this boy is Jon Snow?"

"Didn't your Lord wed Sansa Stark?" Lord Wull asked, feigning ignorance."I am sure she will be able to identify her brother."

"Aye," the man replied, another ugly smile washing over his lips."I am sure she will. You may leave now."

"Leave?" Wull asked."Our ride was rather long. Don't you think we deserve at least a proper supper and a place for the night?"

"Very well," the man grumbled and called for the servants, who brought them ale and dark bread accompanied by cheese. They ate while Lord Snow was dragged away. Davos sipped on his ale, trying ease the tension in his body. After supper they were led to their sleeping accommodations, a place not even fit for pigs. Lord Wull got at least a warm room, but Ser Davos and the other men had to contend with hay and the smell of horseshit.

 _I will be glad to get out of his place_ , Davos muttered to himself and watched the movement of the guards outside. It was way past the hour of the wolf when they sneaked out, their hidden daggers in hand. The guards died quickly and then they lowered the drawbridge while Lord Wull and a handful of his men made their way to the dungeons to free Lord Snow from his imprisonment.

The moment the drawbridge was lowered the rest of their men, a good hundred, came storming over, their swords and spears raised.

The other guards were now alarmed, but it was already too late. Steel clashed against steel, horns sounded and arrows snapped. The Bolton men died like flies and the other guards, once loyal to House Glover were soon helping them.

Ser Davos brushed the blood from his surcoat as they made their way over the courtyard cast in moonlight. Lord Stark looked bad, his face bruised and bloody. It seems the guards decided to play with him, but the boy didn't complain and was soon burying his blade in a Bolton man. He moved as quick as a shadow and a moment later the man collapsed like a puppet without strings. He didn't even have a chance to cry out before Lord Snow's blade cut him apart like butter. Valyrian steel is a terrifying material.

Returning to the castle they found the Castellan awaiting them with a raised sword and two men armed with crossbows.

"Traitors!" he cursed."Lord Ramsay will skin you for this betrayal!"

"He can try!" Lord Wull snapped back and lifted his shield.

Then one of the men fired the first crossbow, but it was caught by Lord Snow's shield and a moment later his blade was buried in the man's neck, blood splattering the stone floor beneath his feet.

The other men followed after Lord Wull cut him down with a quick movement of his sword. Soon after Yellow Dick found himself gagged and bound like Lord Snow before him.

Once every Bolton loyalist was dealt with they freed the rest of the prisoners, among them Lady Glover and her son, young Lord Glover. The Lady was in a bad state, her clothes tattered and her face gaunt from the lack of food. Her boy didn't look much better, his ankles thin and his hair greasy.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, putting himself before his Lady mother.

"I am Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and son of Eddard Stark. We have retaken this castle to return it to Glover blood. Ramsay Bolton's henchman is now our prisoner. The castle is yours, my young Lord."

The boy remained mistrustful.

"Ramsay Bolton's henchman promised the same. They killed the Ironborn, but locked me up and had my Lady mother raped. They made me watch as they took turns," the boy snapped, tears burning in his eyes."Why should I believe you?"

Lord Snow balled his fists.

"The Bastard of Bolton will pay for his crimes…this I promise you, my Lord," he declared before addressing Lady Glover."And, my Lady."

Then he turned to Lord Wull's men.

"Bring the bastard back here!"

None of them protested against his order and soon the former Castellan was dragged before them like a dog.

"You decide," he told Lady Glover and young Lord Glover."What shall be done with him?"

The Lady paled and the boy appeared stunned.

"No death would be enough to pay for the suffering he inflicted upon us…," the boy stuttered angrily, his face a grimace of rage."He smothered my baby sister… because she was too loud for his taste."

"And you, my Lady?" Jon prodded more gently, but only received a brief and strained answer.

"Do as you see fit, my Lord."

Lord Snow nodded his head in understanding and flashed the former Castellan a cold look.

"Castrate him and then cut off his head."

Lord Wull's men paled, but didn't hesitate to fulfill his order. Then Lord Snow graced young Lord Glover with another smile, a mixture between encouragement and sadness.

"Do you want to watch?"

The boy paled, but he nodded his head in agreement.

"Aye."

Davos didn't watch. He saw enough men burned alive by Lady Melisandre to derive any pleasure from it. It surprised him though that Lord Snow inflicted such a torture on the man. Even Janos Slynt received a kinder death.

But Ser Davos Seaworth was a man who kept his opinion to himself.

Supper was served when Lady Sansa came to join them in company of the rest of their men. It was impossible to to house them all, but the Wildlings appeared unbothered by the fact that they had to sleep out in the open. Soon they erected cookfires and went about their daily business.

"Ser Davos," Lady Sansa greeted him and graced him with a smile."I am pleased to see you alive."

Then she looked around, probably searching for a sign of her brother.

"Where is Jon?"

"In young Lord Glover's solar …he and Lord Wull are penning a letter for Ramsay Bolton."

"A letter," she muttered and pulled her cloak from her shoulders."Would you show me the way?"

"I would be my pleasure," Ser Davos agreed, though he was only half-finished with his meal. Not that it bothered him. He was a smuggler and always prepared to slip off at any moment.

"Jon!" Lady Sansa called out to him and paled when she saw his purple bruises."What happened to you?"

"We staged a little mummery," Jon answered, a wry smile curling on his pale lips."It was worth the effort...the castle is ours and all it's supplies."

"Indeed," she replied and moved closer."Ser Davos mentioned to me that you intend to send Ramsay Bolton a letter...What for?"

"To lure him out of Winterfell," Lord Snow informed his sister."I will send him this letter and the head of his friend. I will let him know that we are coming for him."

"And then?" Lady Sansa asked fearfully.

"We will fight," Jon replied."And hope for the best."

Ser Davos shared his belief. Whatever the future holds for them, it will surely be bloody.

...

 **Thank you again for the reviews. Ask questions if you like.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Jon**

Jon spent all evening applying the poultices the Maester gave him for his bruises. The Bolton guards were quite rough with him, but that was no surprise. They probably wanted to give him a taste of what would have awaited him in the hands of the Bastard of Bolton.

The paste smelled like foul eggs, but helped well enough against the burning pain. When he was finished he dressed and fastened his sword.

It was then that Sansa came to see him one last time before her departure. She means to meet Lord Baelish on the road.

"You look better," she remarked when she laid eyes on his face, but Jon saw through her lie.

"You can be honest about it, sister. I look terrible. Not that it matters…I will soon be splattered in gore and blood. A few more bruises won't matter."

She nodded her head and exhaled deeply, before moving closer. There is something on her mind, he realized.

"And you are sure this boy is not our brother?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her question pierced him like an arrow. He tried to mentally prepare himself for Ramsay's bait, but the thought disturbed him greatly.

He will have to watch while this cunt butchers an innocent boy. Yet the Long Night taught him that sacrifices are sometimes necessary for the greater good.

"He wasn't the "last time"," Jon replied and tried to curb the anxiety stirring up inside him.

 _What if it will be different? What if it is Rickon? What if he is wrong?_

He would never be able to forgive himself, but then he already did the unforgivable…

 _Not now_ , he told himself and brushed those crippling thoughts away to bury them in the darkest corner of his mind.

"If it is Rickon then he is already as good as dead," Jon replied and gritted his teeth.

Horror and acceptance showed on her face as she braced herself against the wall.

"That is not the only thing on my mind," she added hesitatingly.

"Ask and I will answer as honestly as possible," he replied and gave her an encouraging nod.

She pursed her lips before asking her question.

"You said that I executed Lord Baelish, but you never told me why. Would you mind telling me?"

Jon sighed heavily and forced the words over his lips. Sansa suffered enough, but what choice did he have?

"He started it all. He asked of Lady Lysa Arryn to send a letter to your Lady Mother to pit the Starks against the Lannisters. It was him who betrayed father and brought the Gold Cloaks against him and it was him who murdered Lady Arryn and Lord Arryn. He is a parasite that thrives among chaos. That is what you told me when I asked you about it."

She looked like slapped, her blue summer eyes wide in shock.

"Gods," she gasped and averted her gaze."Gods…he used us all."

"He did," Jon added gently, not wishing to disturb her. It was much to take in, which is the reason he avoided telling her."Father and your Lady Mother played right into his hands. Well, you, Bran and Arya saw right through him and brought him to justice."

"Arya…Bran," she muttered, recognition showing on her face. He let that detail slip on their first meeting, but it seems she had buried it deep in her memories until now."I almost forgot about that…When will they return?"

"Sansa…I am not sure if it is wise to tell you everything, but be assured that they will. First we need to fight…if I die I want you to speak to Lord Royce. Tell him everything that transpired. He will believe you. He loved our father more than Lord Baelish."

Fear and panic showed on her face.

"You won't die…you didn't die last time and you won't die now. I will bring the Vale knights and then we go home…together. That you are an oathbreaker won't matter if I speak for you."

He couldn't help but to smile at that. The other Sansa fought with him on the eve of battle, but then he was a much different person then. He didn't exactly show much kindness to her either.

He was still weary of battle, but unlike last time he had a clear goal and incentive to work towards. He only needs to win…

"Don't fret about it sister. I will give Ramsay a fight he will never forget. And my vows…it didn't matter the last time."

"It didn't matter?" she asked, her eyes wide in surprise."How so?"

Jon gritted his teeth. He was been torn on telling her the truth, but it needs to be done, no matter how unpleasant.

"Robb's will legitimized me and freed me from my vows to the Night's Watch."

"Robb´s will?" she gasped.

"Aye," Jon confirmed and forced the words over his lips."Thinking that our brothers are dead he made me his successor…he disinherited you…the marriage with…," he stuttered, his voice failing him.

"The marriage with Lord Tyrion was a danger to the North," she ended for him, pain and hurt evident on her face."That is why he did it."

"Aye," Jon added."Rickon lived in the end and so did you, but they still named me King Regent, much to Lord Baelish's displeasure. You were angry and felt betrayed."

She looked utterly speechless.

"I see," she said and moved closer, coming to stand next to him."But that was a different time. Did I know about the White Walkers?"

He was surprised by her question and shook his head.

"No, you didn't believe me until much later. As I said…we didn't exactly trust each other."

"But we do now," she told him and gave him an encouraging smile."I cannot speak for this other Sansa, but I believe and trust you. I don't mind if they make you King…I know how to rule a castle, but I don't know how to fight these creatures. You will have my support," she added and offered her hand.

He wanted to refuse her offer, but then he also had to think of the future. The North needs to stand united against the White Walkers.

By blood he had no right to Winterfell. He was half a Stark, a trueborn at that, but his name was Targaryen. And yet, deep inside, he knew that is necessary.

Falsely placed guilt will not help him now.

Thus he smiled and shook her hand.

"I thank you, sister."

…

A grey dreary sky spread over the horizon when they arrived at the battlefield that was meant to decide the fate of the North. Jon recalled this place only in his nightmares, when he was covered in blood and butchering his enemies. Unlike last time he had nearly five-thousand men behind him, but that won't matter when the Boltons still had about two-thousand more fighting men.

He is better prepared than last time, but he still feared failure.

It was like a curse that kept him awake during the long nights they spent under the open sky. The cold, the lack of food and the constant snowfall didn't make it any better. It reminded him too much of the horrors of the Long Night. Sometimes he was still amazed to see the sun rise every morning. It was the reason he often crawled out of his tent before sunset. Every day he had the feeling that this sunrise will be the last one…

This was also the last time they made camp. It was a ridge they chose as their place, to provide a good view over the battlefield below. Left and right were woods, though not as thick as would be ideal. Day and night they spent preparing their defenses. They dug holes and put up wooden pikes, they sharpened their spears and prepared their arrows.

Jon spent half the evening polishing Longclaw, but it didn't help to still his fears.

The sound of Wun Wun's trumping feet made him jolt from his seat. The giant was now dressed in leather armour, a large tree in hand. A few days ago they felled the largest tree they could find and cut a weapon for the last of the giants. Not the last, he knew but alone as he was it made this kind of impression. Jon had believed for a long time that he was the last living Stark, but then he found Arya, Sansa, Rickon and Bran again. Daenerys, his Aunt by blood is another member of his family, though he still had a hard time thinking of her as his Aunt.

He had hated Lord Stark for lying to him. That he made him believe his mother never loved him had pained him deeply, but now he only felt acceptance. If he is meant to see Daenerys again, he will let her know that she is not the last of her line, though he will choose a less blunt way than Bran did with him.

"The last time I stood here was in company of King Stannis," Lady Melisandre's voice roused him out of his deep thoughts."Your home is truly beautiful, Lord Snow."

"It is," Jon agreed and inclined his head to find the familiar grey towers rising above the horizon."But it will never be the same. Half my family is dead. No revenge will ever heal the scars left."

"No," Lady Melisandre agreed."But it will give us a fighting chance. You told me that you don't believe in the flames, but I saw you fighting in Winterfell. It was the reason I resurrected you. I hoped this would restore my faith."

Jon felt a hint of pity stirring inside him. The sacrifice she goaded him into was done out of desperation and not out of cruelty, but it is still hard for him to look at her without being reminded of it.

"I don't need faith in a god to give me purpose. I fight for those that are important to me. That is the only advice I can give you, my Lady."

He wanted to turn away, but she called out to him.

"Whatever I made you do in this other reality…I apologize, though I doubt it will be enough," she said, her ruby eyes fixed at him."Yet I wonder…Why did you not kill me? Why did you not tell Ser Davos about Princess Shireen's death?"

"I wanted to kill you," he admitted openly."We will need every capable hand if we want to survive the coming war."

Then he left her to join Ser Davos, Val and Tormund to wait for the coming battle. Tormund and Davos soon left them to "go shitting" or whatever that meant, leaving only Val and him. She had avoided him since their last talk, but then they didn't have much time to rest.

"Your friend is going to vomit his guts out," Val remarked and continued sharpening the tip of her spear."Tormund's self-brewed ale is poison of the finest sort."

Jon knew what she meant and wrinkled his nose at the memory.

She smiled at that, relief showing on her face.

"I see, something you remember," she added gently and put her spear away. Then she pulled her pelt back over her shoulder and regarded the horizon, tinged in orange and yellow.

"My death didn't take away my memories," Jon replied carefully.

She gave an understanding nod and brushed her braid over her shoulder.

"And yet you are different," she remarked, an almost fearful expression showing on her face."I overheard the old knight speaking to your sister...he told her about his death. Did the Red Woman tell you? And if so...Did she see my death or Mance's?"

Jon didn't know what to answer. The last time she died because he fell for Ramsay's bait and because they were outnumbered. Jon is unable to say how the battle will turn out this time, but then Lady Alys escaped her Uncle...

All he could do is hope for the best.

"No, she didn't," he replied and gave her an assuring smile."But whatever happens...your nephew will be taken care of...I promise."

She grinned.

"Keep your promises, Lord Crow. I have no intention to die. I plan to grow as old as Mother Mole."

...

The day of battle came with a bleeding sky and fresh snowfall.

Even from afar Jon was able to spot the Bolton banner fluttering in the wind. Behind him he carried the wolf of House Stark. Sansa made it from the dress Lady Alys wore for her wedding and embellished it with a dark wolf on the front. Jon refused first, given that he is no Stark, but now it gave him more comfort than he believed possible.

"They are coming!" Lord Flint declared loudly.

Jon swallowed hard and let his gaze sweep over the approaching enemy. It was like a sea of steel, men and horses. It felt as if an ocean was separating him from his home…

"Aye!" Jon replied loudly, the sound of horns drowning out his voice.

Their own men stood arrayed. The archers in command of Ser Davos are placed on the front, the infantry, consisting both of Wildlings and Northmen right behind and at last the cavalry on the back.

It was in that moment, as they waited for the other side to make the first step, that Ramsay Bolton began the game. Jon grabbed the reins of his horse tighter as he watched the boy paraded on the battlefield like an animal for slaughter.

He had told his men about the bastard's lie, but he feared what the boy's death will do to their fighting spirit.

It took all of Jon's strength to keep himself still as the arrows came down upon the boy. For that brief moment he closed his eyes, to blend out the guilt washing over him.

 _May the gods forgive me_ , he thought and brushed it all away. Then he gave the sign to the archers to move forward and send a rain of arrows on their enemy. Half of them didn't even reach the target, but that didn't matter. It was only meant to give the bastard a taste of his own medicine.

Another volley of arrows followed, but by then the bastard had realized that he will not fall for his bait and had his men raise their shields to protect themselves against the volley of arrows. Jon made them unleash another volley of arrows upon the enemy, before sending the infantry forward. With banging shields they moved through the ranks of the archers and formed up, commanding the line of battle in front of them.

Yet the Boltons remained not idle and soon their own infantry advanced forward, their weapons and shields raised. With a crash of steel the Bolton and Stark troops buried their weapons in each other. Their center stood strong against the enemy's onslaught but the left flank gave up under the tremendous pressure of several thousand men pressing against their ranks.

They were able to dig a gap into their lines that was soon closed Thenn men. He knew that it was the Magnar of Thenn, because the white sunburst on a black background displaying his wife's house was visible from afar.

Yet the movement of their men against the enemy was temporarily ended when the Bolton archers unleashed a fresh round of arrows on them. The shock was palpable on both sides and robbed them off the orderly formation they had formed before. Soon the battle lines were blurring and order no longer prevailed. It was a mess of steel and blood, men struggling and crashing against each other like waves. More arrows flew, hitting their own men and enemy alike, followed by an assault of the Bolton cavalry.

 _The bastard doesn't care if his own men die._

The horns sounded and the Bolton cavalry charged towards their flanks. It was like the sound of thunder, but the thick woods and palisades should keep them at bay.

 _It is time_ , he knew and led his horse forward, the Flint and Mormont cavalry following after him. On the other side he saw Lord Norrey bringing his own men in position. The man hated the Wildlings more than anything and thus Jon felt doubts about his loyalty. It was the very reason he mixed his men with the Hornwood cavalry.

Thus the horns were sounded and they charged towards the enemy flanks. They rolled over Bolton men left and right, their pikes digging deep into their armor. After his spear had broken, Jon unsheathed his sword and drove it into the first Bolton man he could find.

Left and right they continued to cut down as many men as possible, before whirling their horses around the enemy to return behind the protective line of their infantry. Jon felt sweat rolling down his cheek as he pulled off the helmet to get a better look at the arrow sticking out of his armor. It hurt, but it didn't go deep. In the heat of battle he hadn't even noticed it.

Not having the time to pull the arrow out, he put the helmet back on his head and let his gaze sweep over the sea of men. Their flanks stood, the left one struggling more than the right, but that was to be expected. The left flank was made up of Wildlings. Many of them have never faced disciplined soldiers like the Bolton. And yet they kept on fighting…

Far off at the head of the infantry was Wun Wun, slashing his mighty tree in the center. It helped to thin the lines of the enemy, but didn't bring the victory he wished for.

Yet the sight filled him with a fond memory of Arya. As a toddler Lady Stark gifted her countless puppets, but every one of them was slashed to pieces by his wild little sister. Wun Wun looked like her, slashing his tree through the enemy lines.

Jon didn't waste more and prepared for the next charge. Three times he repeated this, but soon there were only two-third of his men left. One horse died beneath his feet and soon he had another arrow lodged in his armor.

The Northmen fought bravely, but exhaustion was taken its toll on them, so much Jon could see. They had less men than the enemy and thus their lines were thinning while Ramsay Bolton kept his reserve of Frey men and Umber men far from battle.

 _To smash us when we are worn out_ , he knew and hoped that the Umbers recalled their loyalties.

"Onwards!" Jon called his men and decided to charge again, to make it count. Again they rolled over the enemy, but they seemed to double, while their own men continued to struggle on.

This time he saw the bastard of Bolton. _Coward_ , he wanted to call as he was hiding behind the lines. Jon called for the others to follow him back, but this time he didn't make it back beyond the enemy lines. A sudden volley of arrows met his horse, making it collapse beneath him. It all happened in the blink of a moment and he was nearly squashed to death. Limping and bleeding, he pulled himself to his feet and drew his blade. The enemy didn't hesitate to throw themselves at him. He buried his blade in the guts of an approaching enemy and cut apart another one while he feared to drown in the corpses and blood beneath his feet. The smell was even worse, a mix of blood, shit and sweat that made him want to gag.

It was way past midday when the reserve moved forward, the Freys in the front and the Umbers behind.

Horns sounded and the Freys marched right into the left flank, tearing it down with one decisive blow, but then it happened…

Jon thought his heart would burst in relief, when he saw the Umber men stab the Freys into the back.

"Who owns the North?" Mors Umber demanded to know in his familiar booming voice.

"Stark! Stark! Stark!" his men answered and banged their swords against their shields, before continuing with their butchery.

 _Rickon lives_ , he knew at once and rallied any men he could find to move them towards the collapsed left flank.

They threw themselves at the Freys, cutting them apart left and right. The raging battle was soon distant to him, his heart pounding to the drums of war.

At last another horn sounded. Riders carrying the blue and white banner of House Arryn stormed down the hill and rolled through Boltons like a sword through skin.

It was a glorious sight to behold, but his eyes soon returned to Ramsay Bolton. Paying witness to the collapse of his army the bastard fled the battle that was now decided in their favour.

Ghost seemed to sense his thoughts and soon his mighty direwolf emerged from the sea of men and joined his side. His mouth was bloody from battle and he sported a cuts, but it didn't keep him from following after Jon, up the hill, over dead bodies and horses alike, with only one goal in mind.

Winterfell.

Along the way he met Wun Wun, who was littered with arrows, but otherwise unharmed. Tormund and Val were not far, all two of them drenched in blood, but alive.

"Where are you going, Lord Crow?" Tormund asked, his cheek sporting a terrible cut.

"The bastard is fleeing back to Winterfell," he informed them and earned himself an understanding nod.

"Then we should catch the craven," Val added determinedly."Did you hear that Wun Wun?"

The giant gave a grumpy noise and off they were, rushing towards Winterfell. The sight of the grey stone towers and the gates made his heart swell with happiness and fear at once.

Above the ramparts were archers placed, but Jon had picked up a shield along the way and Wun Wun proved much quicker than them. With all his strength he bashed against the door and tore it out it's angles.

Inside they found the bastard, arrow and bow in hand.

Jon didn't give him any chance to put an arrow into that bow. He warged into Ghost and rushed towards the bastard, tearing him apart limp and bones.

With blood in his mouth he lost himself to his anger.

...

 **As always, thank you for the comments.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sansa**

The King-Beyond-the-Wall is still weak, but that is to be expected. When they found him imprisoned in a cage he was nothing but skin and bones. And yet he smiled when he saw Val and Tormund and his other Wildling companions. Truly, those Wildlings are hard to kill.

Sansa had wanted to talk to him for a long time, to thank him for his sacrifice, but she didn't know how. She knew Ramsay Bolton and was surprised to find the man in front of her sane. Theon was nearly robbed off his sanity through the torture Ramsay inflicted upon him.

"Val," she greeted the young woman, seated beside Man's bedside. She looked pale and tired, a nasty scar spreading over her right cheek. It was a scar from battle, but the woman wasn't bothered by it. If anything she took pride in the wound she received.

Sansa tried to think of her own wounds the same way. She survived Ramsay. He is now nothing more than a dark figment of her memory, his body torn apart from Ghost.

"Lady Sansa," the Wildling Princess greeted her with a thankful smile and took the bowl from her hands, before moving aside so Sansa was able to sit down next to her.

"Mance," Val roused the the King-Beyond-the-Wall from his sleep. He is face was pale, his dark eyes shining with recognition."There is someone who wants to speak to you. She also brought your supper."

"Aye," he replied, his voice strained and weak. With the help of Val he sat up and mustered Sansa.

"You look better," he remarked, a wry smile spreading over his lips."I am glad you made it to Castle Black. No my debt is paid."

She exhaled deeply, guilt stirring up inside her. The women who came with him were all skinned alive by the hands of Ramsay Bolton. Their blood was on her hands too.

"I am glad too," she said at last and lifted her head to look at him."But I regret what happened to your brave sparewives. Ramsay Bolton received a death appropriate to his character…if that is any consolation to you, your Grace."

The mention of his title made him chuckle.

"You truly are Lord Snow's sister…," he replied and squeezed her hand gently."But the title is unnecessary. The Free Folk has no need for this formality. I was named King by my people because they thought me able to lead them through the Long Night. I failed at that…the majority are dead."

His words pained her deeply and she searched her mind for something to say…to lift his spirits. She owed him that.

"And yet they all came here to save you," she told him and squeezed his bony hand."For them you are still the King-Beyond-the-Wall."

"Maybe," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper."Maybe."

"Lady Sansa," Val interrupted, her hand touching her shoulder gentle touch."Mance appreciates your visit, but he needs to rest and to eat…I hope you don't take it as an insult."

"Oh no," she replied and rose back to her feet."I am will return to my duties. Lord Umber announced his visit…to bring my brother home."

"Which one was that again?" Val asked, curiosity shining in her eyes."The one that fell from the window or the other one…the youngest?"

"The youngest," Sansa replied."His name is Rickon."

Then she returned to her rooms and washed herself properly. She had spent all morning, helping to clean the rooms. Winterfell was broken and bent, but now, nearly a moon after the Battle of the Bastards, it is becoming a homely place. That the nearby lords provided them with material to rebuild was a great help as were the Wildlings, who were toiling day and night.

There is still a lot of work to do, but at least the dead bodies were fully burned. That makes Sansa sleep better at night, for the scary stories about the rising dead Jon had told her scared her terribly.

Jon himself occupied himself with his duties. Barely a few days after the battle he rode up to Castle Black to relocate the rest of the Wildlings to the Gift, where he means to settle them. The Lords are still grumbling their dissatisfaction about it, especially after a few straying Wildlings stole corn and a woman from a nearby town. However, their complaints were quickly washed away when Jon set out to find the man and had him executed in front of the hurt parties. The corn and the daughter were also salvaged and afterwards Jon even offered to find the girl a proper match among his men.

He meant to return today, but given the terribly weather she is not sure if he will be able to make it. Not that she would dare to speak to him. In fact, they had barely spoken a few words with each other since the end of the battle. It is necessary, to keep up the appearance in front of Petyr Baelish that she holds nothing but mistrust for her brother.

Yet it is getting harder for her everyday. Every time Lord Baelish called her upon her, she wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and curse him for what he did to her father.

"My Lady," a young boy called out to her. She winced at his sight. He is one of Lord Baelish's servants."Lord Baelish bids you to attend to him."

"Now?" she asked and tried to find an excuse."I am feeling rather tired."

"Lord Baelish says it is of great importance," the boy insisted, beseeching her with is blue eyes. Like Rickon's, she realized and felt a hint of pity washing over her.

"Very well," she replied and followed him up to the Library Tower, where Lord Baelish took his residence.

He smiled like a star when he saw her enter.

"Lord Baelish," she said and forced a smile over her lips."You called for me?"

"I did," he confirmed and poured her a goblet of wine. Then he settled down in his chair and urged her to do the same."I have good news for you, my Lady."

"Good news?" she asked carefully, placing the untouched goblet on the table."What about?"

"From King's Landing," he explained and grinned from one ear to the other.

She winced at that. Nothing good ever came from this cursed city. Yet she tried to keep up her appearance and smiled.

"Then please tell me about it?"

"The allegiance between the Lannisters and the Tyrells is broken."

This stunned her. Mace Tyrell was always so desperate to make his daughter a Queen.

"What happened?"

"They are dead, my Lady. Mace Tyrell, his daughter and thousands of other lords were burned like cinder when the Sept of Baelor was swallowed up by wildfire."

Sansa blinked, one, then two-times. _Wildfire,_ she thought and recalled the terrible power of this substance. It wrecked Stannis Baratheon's fleet like nothing.

She doubted Margaery Tyrell considered her a friend, but the girl was nothing but sweet and kind to her.

To die like that was not a fate she wished upon anyone.

"How did it happen?"

"Who do you think? Who had a motive? Who could have felt threatened by the beloved Tyrell Queen?" Lord Baelish replied and took a sip from his goblet. His smile told her everything she needed to know. _Cersei_ , she knew at once.

"Cersei."

"Exactly, sweetling. Cersei Lannister did this vile deed, but it can only be to our advantage. Her son is dead as well."

She shuddered, recalling sweet Tommen. If I had been born as the oldest son the Seven Kingdoms would have never burned. Now he is dead as well.

 _May the Father give him peace_ , she prayed and took a sip from the goblet to still hear beating heart.

"You said that it is only to our advantage, but Cersei still commands the Westerlands. I also haven't heard any news from my Grand-Uncle or Uncle."

"That may be," Lord Baelish granted her."But you have the Knights of the Vale on your side…and I have match for you that will solidify their loyalty forever."

 _Another marriage_ , she knew and wanted throw the goblet at his face. The last time he sent her to wed a monster. What will come next? Will he call Joff back from the dead to defile her as well?

"Who do you have in mind, my Lord?"

"Lord Hardyng…you met him briefly. He is Sweetrobin' heir. A fine young man…even if a bit unhinged. You don't have to fret…once you have a child of him we will get rid of him and Sweetrobin. Then you will name two Kingdoms as your own."

"Two?" she asked, playing dumb. She knew that he is referring to the North and the Vale. He wants to rule these kingdoms through her. She is meant to be his pretty puppet and nothing more.

"The North and the Vale," he explained."Your younger brother Rickon is young…he will be in need of a Regent…a Queen Regent. Who better than his sister? And it will be years until he is old enough to rule. By then you may have a daughter of you own…a pretty one like you, with red hair and blue eyes like your Lady mother. We will make her his Queen or another girl easily controllable."

 _It is nothing more than a petty dream_ , she thought and was astounded by his change of attitude. When he is taking like this he always gives the impression of a little boy, though Sansa knows the vulture beneath.

"And my Grand-Uncle and Uncle?" she asked. He promised her to help them, though she knew he only means to take the Riverlands for himself.

"We will help your Uncle," he replied, his smile not quite reaching to his face."The assembly of the Lords of the North will be soon. Your bastard brother is not well-liked for allowing the Wildings pass the Wall. The Lords of the North will easily flock to our side."

 _They will not_ , Sansa knew. Their father's lords are stubborn men and like to grumble and complain, but she saw the mistrustful looks aimed at Lord Baelish whenever they saw her in his presence.

 _They mistrust him more than they hate Wildlings_ , she is sure, but kept that to herself. The falling apart of the Lannister-Tyrell alliance sparked an idea…

It made Sansa recall the match the Queen of Thorns wanted to broker between her and her grandson Willas.

He is a cripple, but Ser Loras always spoke very kindly about his brother. He is also the Lord of the Reach, the corn basket of Westeros. A match with him would benefit the North more than a marriage with this Lord Hardyng. She also has no interest in become a Kingslayer. Sweetrobin has a temper, but with the right guidance he may yet become a proper Lord.

"I see," she replied and continued to with mummers play."But first I need to claim my crown."

"Of course, sweetling," he replied and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Of course, sweetling."

...

 **Davos**

Lord Umber came in the morning, in company of a hundred of riders baring the banner of his House.

Lord Snow awaited him in presence of his sister, the Stark sigil fluttering above him.

"Lord Snow," the mighty hunk of a man greeted."I bring you Prince Rickon Stark, the heir to the North."

The rows of men parted and a sole horse moved forward. Perched on it was a woman, dressed in rags and pelt. Her hair was dark and braided behind her neck.

 _Wildling_ , was the first thought that came to his mind, but the boy nestled in her arms is definitely Rickon Stark. He and Lady Sansa share the same auburn hair and summer blue eyes. And if that was not proof enough, a moment later a massive black direwolf leapt forward to greet them.

Lord Snow's white wolf and the dark one were soon sniffling and rolling in the mood. They wagged their tails and gave an all around merry impression.

The boy was different. He is face was scrunched in mistrust and he was clinging to the Wildling woman's arm as she regarded Lord Snow.

"They said you are dead!" the boy exclaimed angrily, his blue eyes fixed at Jon."You went away and died!"

Lord Snow paled, but remained calm as he moved closer towards the horse. Carefully, he pulled of his gloves and brushed it over the boy's arm.

"Rickon…I am not father…it is me..Jon Snow," he explained, but the boy grew only more agitated.

"Osha…I want to go. I don't like it here…tell him to go away…I hate him."

"Forgive him, my Lord," the Wildling woman told Lord Snow with an apologetic smile."He was too young when he left. At times he called me mother…it is hard for him to understand. I did my best."

"I am sure you did," Lord Snow replied gently, his sharp face softening at the sight of the boy. It was a seldom sight, like a warm sunbeam after a long snowfall."I thank you for your care."

Then he turned back to Rickon.

"You are home now, brother," he assured him and pulled his hand away, before inclining his head to Sansa. The Lady looked equally pale, her face a mixture between happiness and sadness.

"There is someone who wants to see you…your sister Sansa."

"It is true," she replied and pulled the hood of her cloak down. Tears were shining in her eyes as she moved closer to the horse."I missed you."

The boy's eyes widened in shock.

"You are not my sister!" he shouted at her, which made her stop in her tracks. His words were now nothing more than whimpers and hot tears were soon rolling down his cheeks."Stop lying to me mother…you lied before. You said you would come back…but you lied. Just like you lied about father. Go away…I hate you too!"

"Oh, Rickon," Lady Sansa whimpered and bridged the distance, her hands snaking around his small frame. Then the both of them wept until only silence remained.

"I promise," Lady Sansa said then, her voiced muffled by the boy's shoulder."I won't ever leave you again!"

This broke the boy's resolve and soon he was clinging to her, fresh tears soiling her dress and cloak.

"Mother…," he whimpered in between sobs."Mother."

Afterwards the Lady departed to settle her brother in his old home. Tonight the Lords of the North mean to decide on the future of the North.

Davos spent the rest of the evening in the company of the Wildlings. Especially, this Tormund took some odd sort of liking to him.

"Now tell us…Onion knight," the old man slurred, already deep in the cups, though it was barely beyond evening."What will you do now? Your King is dead after all."

The question took him off-guard, but is not without truth. King Stannis is dead, but he is still here. His wife is Marya probably waiting for him, but then Davos recalled the dark future Jon Snow told him about.

 _No, I can't leave. At least not now._

"I kinda like it here," Ser Davos replied instead and poured down the bitter ale."I think I will stay around for a while longer."

Tormund grinned from one ear to the other.

"Good decision. Many of the spearwives lost their husbands. They wouldn't care that you are an old fucker. They saw you drenched in gore and blood. Nothing wets a woman's cunt more than a man who can fight. You are even quite homely for an old fucker…you could have a dozen of them to warm your bed."

Davos chuckled. Others would have frowned at such a use of words, but Davos was commoner and used to such jargon.

"A tempting offer…but I have a wife and three remaining sons," he replied."I intend to contact them soon…send them a raven to let them know that I am well."

"Three sons," Tormund remarked and appeared slightly impressed."Didn't think you had it in you, but I was never good at judging people."

"You don't say," the Magnar of Thenn added, his wife settled in his lap. The marriage between the two seemed more successful than first anticipated, for the Lady is already expecting. Not that it is much of a surprise to Davos. The two have a tendency to roam the camp at night and he often saw the two of them running off into the bushes.

 _Youth_ , he thought and couldn't help but to smile.

"What about you," the Magnar of Thenn prodded."Will you make a claim on that giant of a woman once she returns?"

Tormund grinned and put his tankard down.

"You can bet on that!" he declared and slashed his hand on the table."Wait and see…our children will conquer the world."

Ser Davos nearly choked on his ale when he heard that. He had a hard time imagining the Lady Knight with someone like Tormund, but then Lord Snow returned from the dead…he supposed nothing is impossible.

Thus the evening passed and soon the Lords of the North assembled in the Great Hall. The walls were richly decorated in the colors of the Northern banners joined by those of the Vale.

Almost all important houses of the Val have representants among them, though there is no question that this Lord Baelish made sure to retain his leadership position. Yet it didn't escape Ser Davos that this Lord Baelish received more than cold looks from a certain Lord Royce.

Davos didn't know the details of Lady Sansa's and Lord Snow's plans, but he noticed the coldness reigning between them and not long ago he asked Lord Snow about it.

 _It is all a ruse_ , Lord Snow had assured him. _The whole act is meant to fool Lord Baelish. We will soon be rid off him._

The first one to speak was Mors Umber, the man elected to speak for the Lords of the North.

"My Lords and Ladies!" he declared in a booming voice."Winterfell is back in the hands of the Starks and the Bolton traitors that sullied our lands are extinguished. But the Northern Throne remains empty and we have yet to decide who will lead us through the Long Night."

Cheers could be heard and Lord Baelish made use of the moment to make the room his own.

"Well spoken, Lord Umber," Lord Baelish declared and rose to his feet."And that is why the Lords of the Vale are here to pledge their swords to young Lord Stark. His sister is very dear to me and to Lord Robin Arryn. We have every intention to support her brother in his Kingship, but there is another question that remains to be answered…the boy is still young. He cannot rule on his own. He is in need of a proper Regent until he is of age," he continued and turned to smile at Lady Sansa."Who better than his sister to represent his interests?"

"I heard you, my Lord," Mors Umber replied and jerked his head to the other Lords surrounding him."But it is for us to decide who will hold this prestigious position. The North appreciates your help and the service you but you are from the South. You have no right to tell us what to do. I also don't like it when I am interrupted. That is why I ask you to take a seat and allow me to continue."

Then he shifted his attention back to the Lords of the North. Davos knew only a handful of them. He knew Lady Alysanne Mormont, the leaders of the Mountain Clans and of course Lord Mors Umber who turned his cloak for them during the battle. The Hornwoods have no Lord, but he is sure that Lord Snow is already making plans. He had been penning one letter after another in the brief week he remained in Winterfell after his recovery. Then he left for the Wall to settle the Wildings and returned in company of a handful black brothers.

 _A gift for the Lords of the North_ , he had informed Davos when he asked about the wooden cage transported by them as if it is his greatest treasure.

Maybe that is how he intends to get rid off Lord Baelish, he wondered and found Lord Umber exchanging a look with a grim man. Next to the grim sat young Lord Glover, which made Davos assume that this man is his father. Next to him sat another woman, who showed a great resemblance to Lad Alysanne, though her hair was a stark white. Then there was a very short man, dressed in a green garb. _A crannogman_ , he guessed. He heard strange tales about these people, but he knew from Lord Snow that they are sworn to House Stark.

"Lord Glover," Lord Umber addressed the man with a serious expression."Please let the North know about King Robb's last will."

"My pleasure," Lord Glover replied and rose to his feet, before pulling out a sealed parchment.

"This is King Robb's will. He believed his brothers dead, his sister wed to Lannister and his other sister missing. Thus he named Lord Snow his successor…legitimized him and freed him from his vows to the Night's Watch."

If Lord Snow was surprised by this revelation it didn't show on his face. He remained silent, his hand grazing over his white wolf's head.

Lady Sansa looked tense and Lord Baelish looked pale, though the false smile playing on his lips told Ser Davos that he is already cooking up a counter argument, which he didn't hesitate to share with them.

"A will based on false knowledge and thus without consequence," Lord Baelish interrupted again and earned himself an icy look by Lord Glover.

"That is your opinion," another man added. He was of a massive build and Davos recalled that travelled that here in a litter. It was Lord Manderly, the Lord of White Harbor, flanked by his two daughters."And we are no fools. We all know that you have once worked for the Lannisters and that your help lent to Lady Stark was not done out of pure selflessness. King Robb Stark rose up against the Lannisters, because they butchered our Lord…I hold no grudge against Lady Stark, but she knows nothing of war and spent the last years of her life in the south. Not to mention…she was wed to a Lannister and then to a Bolton. At last…your influence over the Vale is what worries us the most. We don't know you and we don't trust you."

Lord Baelish smiled, though even Davos was able to read the disastisfction in the man's features. It seems things didn't quite play out the way he wanted. Yet that didn't keep him from making his opinion known.

"Says a man who shunned his loyalty to House Stark," Lord Baelish argued and earned himself quiet mutters from his lackeys.

"It is true," Lord Manderly admitted openly and turned to look first at Lady Sansa and then at Lord Snow."I didn't answer the call and even provided the Boltons with men. However, I did this because I believed that my son is still alive. Yet only recently my hopes to have him returned to me turned to dust. Even so, the Frey Lords wed to my granddaughters are dead. I put their heads on the ramparts out of the Wolf's Den for everyone to see and the men I offered to the Boltons were old and brittle. My good men are ready to serve House Stark again. I am also here to accept punishment for my disloyalty, Lord Baelish."

This earned the man loud shouts and rattling tables. Even the Wildlings muttered their approval.

A moment of silence followed, before Lord Baelish started to laugh. It was an amused chuckle that made Davos wince.

"Does that mean you suggest to crown Lord Snow as King Regent over a trueborn daughter of Winterfell, Lord Manderly?" Lord Baelish asked and tapped his fingers on the table in front of him."Well, it is no surprise that one oathbreaker makes common cause with another oathbreaker. Tell me …How did Lord Stark usually handle such men like you and Jon Snow?"

"He executed them," Lord Snow remarked coldly."But you are wrong my Lord. I am no Oathbreaker and Lord Manderly, for all his hesitancy to help us in our war against the Boltons, is no oathbreaker either. Besides, who gives you the right to sit judgment above a man you hardly know? You may be the Lord Protector of the Vale by your sham marriage to Lady Arryn, but once Lord Arryn comes of age you will disappear into nothingness. Not that it matters to me what becomes of you, my Lord, but I do care for the North and my sister. There is a danger lurking beyond the Wall…a danger far scarier than Cersei Lannister or even Ramsay Bolton. The White Walkers."

Those how hadn't heard about it before started to whisper to each other. Especially, the Vale Lords appeared skeptical. Lord Baelish sensed this and made use of it without wasting another moment.

"Wonderful…wonderful," he said and laughed, before clapping his hands."And now the oathbreaker wants to escape his judgment, by telling us fairy tale stories."

Lord Snow's gaze was unyielding and a subtle smile curled on his lips.

"The White Walkers are mere fairy tales…I have proof, my Lord. Would you care to see?"

Lord Baelish looked utterly stunned, but continued to smile.

"Please…Lord Snow," he said and bared his teeth."Please show us the proof…I am all eyes and ears."

"A pleasure," Lord Snow replied and turned to the Wildlings."Tormund…Would you ask my brothers to bring our gift?"

"Of course, Lord Crow," the giant of a man replied and left with a grin on his lips. In tense silence the brothers of the Night's Watch entered the Great Hall and carried the infamous wooden cage.

All eyes were fixed on Lord Snow as he helped the brothers of the Night's Watch to open the box and to reveal a human being, bound and gagged like a prisoner. Tormund grabbed the leash to keep the struggling shrieking creature from leaping on the audience. It had the pale complexion of a corpse and the smell was even worse, but those frost blue eyes made Ser Davos shudder.

 _It is true_ , he knew then and recognized one of the traitors Lord Snow hanged for their betrayal. Wick, the man was called.

Shock was evident on all faces, some muttering and others frozen in silence. Lord Baelish opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it. Even the clever lord from the south cannot deny the sweet smell of death and the rope marks on the creature's neck.

"This my Lords and Ladies...," Jon began and made use of the moment of silence to speak."...is what we call a wight. They are dead men woken by the White Walkers. The only way to kill them is by fire and dragonglass. There are thousands of them lurking beyond the Wall and every dead man on our side means another soldier for them. The White Walkers are the reason I allowed the Wildlings pass the Wall."

A long moment of heavy silence passed, before Lord Glover spoke. He looked pale, his eyes still fixed on the moving creature.

"Dragonglass?" he asked his eyes flickering to Lord Snow."What is that?"

"Obsidian…it can be harvested in places like Dragonstone."

"Fire," Lord Umber repeated."You said that fire works as well, haven't you?"

"Aye," Lord Snow confirmed and patted his scabbard."Valyrian steel can also harm them."

"Gods," Mors Umber mumbled and stroked his beard. Lord Wull, Lord Norrey and Lord Flint looked equally disturbed.

"I can only agree," Lord Manderly added and made use of this new revelation to hand Lord Baelish the deathblow."Now that Lord Snow's innocence is proven we should return to the topic at hand. We are in need of a King Regent until Rickon Stark comes of age and that is why Lord Snow has my support. He knows the enemy and nobody can deny that he is Eddard Stark's blood. If King Robb thought him a worthy successor then I will not judge his decision."

"Lord Manderly speaks true," Lord Glover added."I have respect for you...Lady Sansa, but Lord Snow knows this enemy. Forgive me."

"I see it the same way," Mors Umber grumbled his approval."Jon Snow is Ned's boy and I saw him fight. I support Lord Manderly's suggestion."

"He has also my support," Lady Mormont agreed and so did her daughter. At last only the crannogman remained. There was something strange in the way he eyed Lord Snow, as if he was very torn on the matter. Then he exhaled deeply and nodded his head in confirmation."I agree…Lord Snow has my approval."

Lord Baelish made one last attempt to salvage the situation, but it was Lady Sansa who cut him off, before he was able to speak.

"I understand," she replied and inclined her head to look at Lord Royce, before shifting her attention back to the Lords of the North.

"I understand your reasons," she added and gave Lord Snow a hesitant smile.

"My brother has my support."

"Lady Sansa…!" he heard Lord Baelish protest, but the game was lost and the Northern Lords swore their fealty to Lord Snow.

Davos felt satisfaction washing over him. Maybe the gods didn't leave them after all.

…

 **As always, thank you for the reviews.**

 **In regards to Jon not warning the Tyrells. Jon never really had much to do with the whole event surrounding the destruction of the Sept of Baelor. Cersei never openly admitted it was her doing. Jon can ony change things he has full knowledge of like the wight hunt or how to handle Cersei.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Jon**

Jon felt out of place in the high seat once occupied by Eddard Stark. He has no crown to place atop his head nor does he have any intention to have one forged. The only thing he needs is the trust of his lords and that will not be worn by sweet words, but by actions.

"Call the petitioners forward," he told Maester Wolkan. He is an old man and dutiful at that, but Jon still missed Maester Luwin.

Thus one petitioner after the other followed. Among them were smallfolk and lords alike. Especially, the Hornwood lands are a pressing. Half of the morning was spent on the issue alone as several parties were offering different solutions. Yet it was the the legitimization of Lord Hornwood's bastard son and that Jon favoured. He didn't want to give away lands to strangers when there is someone of Hornwood blood available. That Lord Glover vouched for the boy's good character was enough proof for Jon. Lord Glover is a harsh man but always honest.

"Please put the legitimization into writing, Maester," he asked Maester Wolkan after the morning petitions were closed. Later that evening, another assembly will be held, concerning

the Boltons. Jon knows that the lords are hoping to get a piece from the cake, but Jon has other plans.

Sansa was wed to Ramsay Bolton and his widow the lands belong to her. He may not be able to give his sister a crown, but she should at least have lands to name her own.

Then there is the matter of Lord Baelish. Last time Jon allowed him to remain unscated, but this time he intends to get rid of him. He is an obstacle, but Jon has yet to decide how he will go about it.

"Of course, your Grace," Maester Wolkan replied dutifully and went to work. Jon used the time to seek out the godswood, where he found Ser Davos.

He often appeared as lost as Jon, roaming the castle day and night. Sometimes Jon invites him to sit with him and to drink a cup of wine. It is meaningless talk about Ser Davos's time as a smuggler and his children. Jon told him tidbits of his dark past, though he never went into detail. Not that the old man ever pressed deeper.

"Your Grace," he greeted and Jon couldn't help but to flinch. His title is still foreign to him, though even Daenerys used to call him King."It is time for the executions, isn't it?"

"Aye," Jon replied with a heavy sigh and grazed his hand over Longclaw. The rest of Ramsay Bolton's companions had fled after his death in the Battle of the Bastards,

but give their unruly character they were soon found. Only a moon after the battle they re-emerged near Barrowtown and ended up raping a woman.

There is no question about the punishment, though most of them probably deserve a worse death than beheading. Yet he is no longer the Lord Commander but a King. He had to keep his emotions at bay and thus he settled for the honorable way Lord Stark would have approved of.

"Longclaw is sharp as ever, though those creatures deserve the bluntest sword there is if you as me."

Ser Davos nodded grimly and moved closer, coming to stand next to the weirwood tree.

"There is a strange beauty to these trees...I understand why you were angry with the Lady Melisandre for burning them," he remarked while Jon settled down beneath the crying face. Then he pulled out his blade and started to polish the smoky surface like Lord Stark had done a thousand times before him.

"It appears we have company," Ser Davos said after a moment of silence had settled over them. Jon knew what he meant before he even laid eyes on Ghost. He was

hunting tonight and Jon has the familiar taste of blood lingering in his mouth.

Jon lifted his head and whistled."Come here, boy."

Without hesitation the wolf trailed to his side and settled down beneath his feet. Then Jon raised his head to look at Ser Davos. He has yet to tell him about Princess Shireen's death. The last time he found the place where she was burned, but this time they chose another route. At times Jon is fighting with himself to tell him, but then he is in need of the Lady Melisandre.

"Will you also pay witness to the executions?" he asked."Several Lords are attending. Sansa excused herself...and Rickon is still too young. I cannot bring back your King, but I can give you the head of Ramsay Bolton's henchmen and the other traitors...among them is Arnulf Karstark. It was him who stabbed your King in the back. I thought you might want to be there."

Surprise showed on Ser Davos' face. Then he started to laugh.

"I am an old man, your Grace. I learned long ago that revenge doesn't help to heal past wounds. Some wounds are too deep."

"Aye," Jon replied and felt a deep sense of melancholy washing over him. Then he rose to his feet and sheathed Longclaw.

Daeron. That was his son's name. His son who barely saw his first year. Just thinking about it made his heart freeze.

Before leaving he threw a smile over his shoulder."I will see you later, Ser Davos. A cup of mulled wine awaits you as always."

A seldom smile showed on the old man's lips and he nodded his head in understanding.

"Of course."

When he arrived at the courtyard the guards and the Lords who came to pay witness stood assembled. There was Lord Glover, his young son and even Lady Glover. Lady Cerwyn and Lord Wull were also there in company of Lady Alysanne Mormont.

One after another the guards brought the prisoners forward. Jon was unable to remember their strange names, though most of them were similar to Yellow Dick or something

like that.

Only old Lord Karstark asked for mercy, his voice strained and his back bent from old age. His son Cregan died in the Battle of the Bastards and thus it was not hard to establish

Lady Alys as the rightful heir to Karhold. Her marriage to the the Magnar of Thenn is not popular, but marriage was consummated and the Lady is expecting her first child.

"Your Grace...I knew your father well," the old man stuttered."The Night's Watch..." he continued, but Jon cut him off.

"You committed treason and that is a crime punishable by death," Jon replied and turned to Ramsay's henchmen."Now...Who wants to be first?"

Nobody spoke and thus it was for Jon to decide. He jerked his head at the guards and the first prisoner was brought forward.

"What is your name?" he asked the fair-haired boy.

"Damon," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Then speak your last words as is your right," Jon told him and unsheathed the blade from his scabbard.

The boy said nothing and spit on his boots. Jon ignored the rude gesture and asked the guards to press his head on the wooden block. Then, with a quick cut, he separated

his head from his body. The others followed one after another, some cursing and some asking to take the black in the last moments before their deaths.

It was no use. At last old Lord Karstark died, though Jon felt a hint of regret. He took no joy in killing a brittle man, but then even age didn't keep man from committing treason.

Jon felt relief wash over him when it was over. Later he took a short meal in company of Sansa and Rickon, though it is still concerning that Rickon thinks of Sansa as his mother. His sister tried to explain it to him , but it was no use. He didn't want to understand.

 _He needs time_ , Osha had told him afterwards, but time is not something they have.

"Lord Baelish awaits me," Sansa told him after they finished."He wants to talk to me again..probably to lull me with false promises. I think he wants to leave and take me with him."

"As is is right," Jon muttered and broke the bread before dipping into the broth."But I have other plans for him. A treacherous snake like him should not be allowed to roam free, least he runs back to Cersei to stab us into the back."

Sansa nodded her head and emptied her goblet."Knowing him...all is possible, that is why we should act soon."

Jon nodded and put the empty bowl away."Indeed, sister. Better today than tomorrow."

"Today?" she asked."Is that the reason you called me here to take supper with you?"

"Aye," Jon confirmed and poured himself another cup of wine. It was the only comfort he had these days."I want you to reveal his treason in front of the other Lords."

"But...Jon...he has many friends among the Vale Lords. My word will stand against his and there is no proof."

"What you say is true, but I have a possible solution for this problem. But I need your advice. You know these men...Who of his lackey would be prepared to defend his life if it came to the worst?"

A fearful expression washed over her face, but then she nodded her head and pondered his question.

"Ser Lyn Corbray...he is in Lord Baelish's service. He is a cocky and brazen person. Provoking him should be easy."

Jon nodded his head and started to explain.

The evening arrived and the Lords assembled in the Great Hall. Jon took place in the high seat and Sansa settled down next to him, Rickon in her lap. Ghost and Shaggy were not far, lying sprawled on the ground beneath their feet.

"I know most of you are eager to leave for your homes, but there are matters that need to be settled before you leave. First I want to announce that the Hornwood lands are thus officially returned back to a member of Hornwood blood. Lawrence Snow is henceforward known as Lord Lawrance Hornwood. Second I want to attend the matter of the Bolton lands. As Ramsay Bolton's widow my sister Sansa is the only legible heir left. Therefore, she will be henceforth known as the Lady of the Dreadfort, but I have no doubt that she intends to change the name of the castle. She is also no longer known as Lady Bolton, but Lady Stark until she takes another husband...if that is her wish."

Sansa gave him quiet nod and the Lords clapped their approval, though Jon saw a few unhappy faces among the them.

"Third and last...you all saw how I executed the traitors, but here is one traitor left among us."

His words earned him whispering and confusion, especially when Jon inclined his head to meet Lord Baelish's gaze.

"You heard right, Lord Baelish. You are the traitor, my Lord. My sister was kind enough to bring all your crimes to my attention."

The witty man paled visibly, but the smile on his lips remained, unyielding as ever.

"Then please...name them?" he asked and leaned back in his chair.

"It is my pleasure, Lord Baelish," Jon replied and turned back to Sansa. She looked pale and unsure, her arms tightening on Rickon's shoulder.

"It is true. Lord Baelish committed many crimes and I am here to give witness to them."

Then she let her gaze sweep through the room, before coming to rest on Lord Baelish.

"He helped me escape...so much is true, but not out of fatherly concern, but because of his unhealthy obsession for my Lady Mother. He wanted her for himself and I was meant to be her replacement. Yet all his words of sweetness were nothing more than lies. Instead of protecting me he sold me to Ramsay Bolton. Yet that is not his only crime. It was him who asked Lady Arryn to poison Jon Arryn and it was him who murdered said Lady by pushing

her out of the Moondoor. I lied to protect myself, but my brother convinced me to speak the truth. I leave the rest to your judgement, my Lords and Ladies."

Utter silence reigned now in the Great Hall.

Lord Baelish sat frozen in his seat. Not even the wight was able to shake him this much.

Lord Royce made use of the moment to speak.

Do you have proof for these accusations?"

"No," Sansa replied and shook her head."Only my word."

"Of course not," Lord Baelish seethed, his grey-green eyes brimming with anger."This is a plot to get rid of me. It is all clear to me now...her bastard brother manipulated

her against me. They are clever, these bastards. They can not be trusted."

His words earned him grumbles from the Lords of the North, but the Lords of the Vale appeared torn on the matter.

"You are speaking to the King, Baelish," Royce grumbled."And Lady Sansa's words are not without merit. The death of Lady Arryn was always suspicious."

"And yet there is no proof," Petyr Baelish insisted and received claps of approval by his underlings, among them said Lyn Corbray.

"No, there is no proof," admitted and leaned down to stroke Ghost's furred ear."Sansa's word stands against yours, but there is a way to resolve this matter, Lord Baelish. Trial by combat. I will fight against a champion chosen by you."

Sansa paled visibly, though it is all part of their plan.

"But Jon...you are still hurt," she exclaimed fearfully."The Maester said...," she continued, but Jon cut her off and gave the coldest look he was able to muster.

"Not now!"

"But!"

"Not now!" he shouted, before shifting his attention back to Lord Baelish. The calm expression taking hold of Lord Baelish's face told him that he fell for their trap.

 _He thinks me weak_ , Jon knew. _He thinks me weak and over-confident. That will be his downfall._

Ser Corbray seemed agree and rose to his feet, his hand resting on his famous sword Lady Forlorn.

"I will be glad to serve as your Champion, Lord Baelish. This will be the first time Lady Forlorn spills the blood of a King, even if it is only a bastard King."

Jon smiled.

"Then let it be done."

…

 **Daenerys**

 _The heat of the water made her skin boil, but the icy air was even sharper. Confused she lifted her head found a strange tree, bone-white with leaves as red as rubies._

 _A weirwood, she knew though she didn't know how she found this piece of knowledge. Slowly, she let her gaze sweep over her surroundings. She saw this place before, but only in her dreams. Everything was blurred ;the sky, the air and the distant castle with it's grey stone towers._

 _Where am I, she wondered not for the first time, but all these thoughts were soon forgotten when she felt rough fingers caressing her cheek It was him again, the young man with the homely face that sometimes slipped into her dreams, his face a shifting shadow and framed by black hair._

 _He laughed as he brushed his fingers through her wet hair and planted soft kisses on her neck and shoulder. The heat of him sent shivers down her spine._

" _Are you ticklish?" he asked her, his laughter brimming with amusement. There was something strange in the way he used the Common Tongue. There was a strange slur to it, similar to Jorah, but also slightly different._

" _Maybe," she heard herself reply, before smoothing her hand over his cheek. His face was still blurred, but the smile curling on her lips filled her with warmth. Slowly, she drew closer and felt his warm breath on her skin. His touch made her heart race and then she kissed him. First his cheek, then his lips. Most would have called his lips soft, but she forgot about it when his tongue tasted hers._

 _It sent another shiver down her spine, but what surprised her even more was when grabbed her naked hips and lifted her out of the pool. She heard herself chuckle, but shuddered at the touch of snowflakes on her skin._

 _The young man appeared unaffected by the cold and continued to kiss her breast, before moving down her belly, only to pull her legs apart. She hear her laughter as if she knew what was coming, before he dipped his head downwards to kiss her. His lips sucked and continued to kiss her, all coherent thoughts washed away for a brief moment:_

 _She heard herself squeal, her hands grasping for the dirt and the grass growing next to the pool. Not far away she saw the weirwood face watching her as squirmed und his attentions._

" _Yes," she whispered and closed her eyes as a rush of warmth washed over her._

" _Did you like it?" he asked and laughed, his voice warm and soft to her ears. She didn't know what to say. She learned from Doreah how to pleasure men, but she didn't know that it could work the other way around._

" _What is it called?" she heard herself say._

 _He laughed and let his hand smooth over her angled leg. She felt his hardened cock brushing against her as he leaned down to place a kiss on her breast._

" _The Lord's Kiss," he explained and she laughed again, her fingers caressing his cheek._

" _And yet you are a King," she insisted."You bent the knee, but I will make you a King again…even if you don't want it."_

" _If you say so," he replied and gasped when he slipped inside her. She dug her fingers into him as he lazily trust into her, before drawing her legs higher to wrap them around him._

 _The closeness tore a whimper from her and she felt the urge to turn him around, to change the game. He didn't mind though as she turned him and climbed atop of him. With a quick movement she slipped him inside her again and was soon riding him, like she did once with her Silver._

 _She felt his hand cup her breast while the other squeezed her hip. He drove up into her, hitting something deep inside her that left her gasping for air._

 _She felt so warm and drowned in the darkness around her._

"Your Grace!" Missandei's worried voice greeted her through the dark cabine drenched in pale moonlight."Are you well?"

Daenerys didn't know what to answer. She was still rattled from the dream and clutched the bedding to her.

"It was only a dream," she mumbled more to herself than Missandei. Then she pulled the bedding away and climbed out of the bed."It was only a dream."

"I heard you gasp," Missandei remarked quietly and sat down next to her."Was it a nightmare?"

"Yes," she lied and eyed the dark horizon lightening with the first rays of sunlight. _If felt so real_ , she thought and shifted her attention back to her friend.

"I assure you…I am well," she told Missandei and crawled back into bed."It is only my excitement speaking. I am finally coming home. Now let us sleep a bit longer. I need to be well rested."

"Yes, your Grace," Missandei replied obediently, but she read doubt on her friend's face.

…

Daenerys stood on deck when the black towers of Dragonstone appeared. They were like black candles grazing the blue sky above and for a moment she was unable to breathe properly. Viserys didn't lie when he told her how beautiful her birthplace is.

Tears started to burned in her eyes and she desperately tried to keep her composure. She needed to act a Queen, when all she wanted to do was weep like a little girl.

 _I am home_ , she thought. _I am finally home mother. Can you see me?_

"It is a rather grim castle, your Grace," Tyrion Lannister remarked, his voice slurred from the wine he sipped day and night. When she returned to Meereen in company of the Dothraki the battle was already done. Ser Barristan defended the city admirably and the small lord contributed by bringing the Second Sons back into their fold. Meereen, like all the Slaver Cities are now cleansed of this practice, but she never intended to remain in Essos forever. It was always meant as a step to return home. Ser Barristan advised her to imprison Tyrion Lannister and wanted her to imprison the dwarf, but it was true what the dwarf lord had told her on their first meeting.

 _If you want to claim to the Iron Throne you will need someone with a political mind. Ser Barristan is a good soldier, but no politician. I served as Hand of the King and know every House and every Lord. I will serve you loyally if you allow me, your Grace._

That and nothing else is the reason he is here, but that doesn't mean Daenerys trusts the man. While he gave her many flowery reasons for joining her she is smart enough to know that he isn't doing this out of pure selflessness.

Deep down he is driven by a wish for revenge and power. All people are. It was something she learned early in her life.

"This castle was once the seat of my family. On the night I was born a terrible storm reigned and destroyed the entire Targaryen Fleet. My brother Viserys used to tell me this story and it never failed to scare me. Then he would hit me and curse me for being a pathetic weakling. The Blood of the Dragon does no weep, he always said."

"Sounds like a delightful fellow," Tyrion replied and grimaced."My nephew Joff was of a similar character. He enjoyed killing his brother's kitten. Whoever killed him did the Seven Kingdoms a great favor."

"Viserys was my brother," she replied."And I am his rightful heir."

Tyrion Lannister shook his head and clucked his tongue, before coming to stand next to her.

"Rightful heir is a strong term, your Grace. The Seven Kingdoms were once many broken pieces forged into one by your ancestor Aegon the Conqueror. It is an abstract title made up by humans and one day even the Seven Kingdoms will perish. Nothing lasts forever."

"Maybe," Daenerys agreed reluctantly. The small man is a drunkard, but his words are wise beyond his years. She may not fully trust him, but it seems her decision to keep him at her side turned out to be right."But the Seven Kingdoms still exist. I will not allow that my family's legacy is destroyed by people like you sister."

"My sister probably thinks the same way," Tyrion replied, a smile curling on his lips."My father taught us early on that the Lannisters stand above the other houses. In the end he hated your father and I have no doubt that he took great pleasure in destroying your family. He took equal pleasure in doing the same with the Starks. He had the Young Wolf butchered on a wedding. A necessary sacrifice he called it, though others cursed him for it. It is a grave sin to to break the guest right and it seems the gods deemed me worthy to give him a death worthy of his character…," he rambled on, but stopped himself at last.

Daenerys knew that Tywin Lannister died by his son's hands, but he never told her why and how it happened.

"Continue…," she prodded gently and was surprised when he did. Maybe it was the effect of the wine.

"I shot him with a crossbow while he was sitting on his privy. He didn't shit gold in the end."

She grimaced at the picture forming in her head, but felt a hint of satisfaction washing over her when she heard about proud Tywin Lannister's humiliating death.

Her father may have been a monster, but her brother's children and wife were innocents. Sad is only that it was a Lannister who made Tywin Lannister pay.

"And why did you do it?"

"That goes back to my childhood, but the real reason...he wanted to blame Joff's death on me and he hurt someone I loved."

This roused her curiosity, though she tried to hide it.

"Who?"

"My wife…" he said and shrugged his shoulders."She was a crofter's daughter...my brother and I saved her. She was a lovely girl and we wed, but my Lord Father found out about it and convinced my brother to make a fool out of me. They told me that she was a whore hired by my brother to fool me. My father had his guards rape her and asked me to do the same. I did, but later I found out the truth…it was all a lie," he stuttered.

She didn't know what to answer and simply squeezed his shoulder. She was never good at comforting other people.

"Do you know what happened to her?"

"Who?"

"Your wife," she remarked quietly.

He shrugged his shoulders a sad expression taking hold of his face.

"I asked my father, but his answer was lacking," he replied after a long while, his gaze straying to the moving waves."I suppose you don't know where whores go?"

"No," she replied and knew it was meant as a jape instead of a legitimate question. The continued to watch in silence as the castle grew closer.

Lord Tyrion occupied himself with more wine, while Missandei eyed the shore with great eagerness. The Dothraki Guards appeared equally relieved to see land.

She returned to Meereen with hundred-thousand Dothraki at her command, but only forty-thousand sailed with her over the Narrow Sea. The rest she left in Essos to protect the Slaver Cities from ambitious men who might nurse the idea to bring back slavery. Daario is meant to train them and keep the peace, but she means to visit once took the Iron Throne for herself.

Lord Tyrion was relieved, because he feared what a reactions the Dothraki could earn them among the Lords of Westeros. That she assured him to keep them in rein, didn't help to ease Tyrion Lannisters' mind.

Additional to the Dothraki she names eight-thousand Unsullied and about five-thousand sellswords her own, but the dragons are still her greatest price.

"Soon," she assured Missandei, who glanced hopefully at the beach."We will soon have solid ground under our feet."

"I will sent out our men," Ser Barristan told her."If all goes well you will soon be able to claim your first castle, your Grace."

Ser Barristan's prediction turned out to be true. There was not much resistance to be found, but that was not much of a surprise. The rule of the Lannisters is brittle, their allegiance with the Tyrells completely broken since Queen Cersei burned Lord Mace Tyrell and his daughter Margaery Tyrell. Varys told them that nothing but ashes remain of the Great Sept of Baelor.

While Queen Cersei didn't openly admit the deed Tyrion is convinced that it was her who murdered the Tyrell Queen.

 _Wildfire_ , Tyrion had told her, but she is still unable to believe his words. Ser Barristan had told her the truth about her mad father before sailing to Westeros, but it is still hard for her to accept that all Viserys told her were nothing more than lies.

"There was little resistance, your Grace," Grey Worm told here later."We can now safely access the castle."

"Thank you," she told him and soon they were making their way up a steep hill. Her heart pounded widely as her children flew circles around the black towers.

The sight painted a smile on her lips.

 _They feel it too. This is our home._

The castle was mostly deserted. Missandei helped her settle while a good dozen Unsullied under Greyworm's command went to remove the Baratheon banners that could be found in every corner. According to the remaining servants the last owner of this castle was Stannis Baratheon who sailed North…

Not that it mattered. Dragonstone is now back in the hands of a Targaryen and she couldn't help but to smile when she saw the three-headed dragon fluttering in the wind.

That night they sent out ravens to inform their allies about their arrival. Princess Arianne Martell and Lord Willas Tyrell were quick to inform her about their departure towards Dragonstone, though it will take at least a week before they are able to make it here.

"Your Grace," Missandei's soft voice called out to her."Guests have arrived. Two Lords…one named Lord Sunglass and the other serving as regent to House Velaryon, though Lord Tyrion called him a bastard. I don't know what that means, but both came to see you, your Grace."

"I will be pleased to meet them," she replied and smiled. When her friend returned she asked them to help her into a finer dress. It was made of black silk and embellished with rubies. Even her crown once gifted to her in Qarth was resting atop her head.

Daenerys seated herself in the high seat once occupied by her ancestors and asked Greyworm to lead her two guests inside.

Missandei announced her titles while she took her time to regard her guests.

Lord Sunglass turned out to be a nervous young man graced with thin silver hair and grey eyes. Lord Valyrion was the complete opposite. He carried a bright smile that showed no hesitation.

"Rise," she told them and graced them each with a smile.

"Your Grace," the nervous young man addressed her hesitatingly."I am Lord Sunglass, son of the late Lord Guncer Sunglass, who died by the hands of King Stannis' cursed witch. The Lord next to me is Aurane Waters, Regent to his nephew Lord Montarys Velaryon. We both came to pledge our fealty you."

"I accept your oaths of fealty and invite you to sup with me tonight. There is much we need to speak about, my Lords."

"Indeed," the ever grinning Aurane Waters agreed and soon Missandei was leading them to solar where super was served.

It was a simple meal consisting of fresh mussels, garnished with wine and vegetables.

Daenerys enjoyed the meal to the fullest and the two Lords didn't complain either. Lord Tyrion, Lord Varys and even Asha Greyjoy joined them, though her brother refused to leave his room.

Daenerys couldn't help to like the young woman, but she doesn't know what to make of her brother. Even is age was hard to tell, but his sister hinted that he was tortured.

Brushing those thoughts away she shifted her attention back to her guests. She asked them many questions about her family, but sadly neither Aurane Waters nor young Lord Sunglass recalled much of her family.

"What will you do now, your Grace?" Aurane Waters asked after they finished their meal."We heard Highgarden and Dorne are your allies. Do you intend to take the capital?"

Daenerys exchanged a look with Tyrion, before giving her answer.

"I intend to depose Queen Cersei, but my plans will remain my secret until I have met Princess Arianne and Lord Willas Tyrell. Forgive my secrecy."

"We understand your reasons," young Lord Sunglass replied, but Aurane Waters appeared disappointed.

"Consider me surprised," Aurane Waters remarked and circled his goblet in his hand."I saw your dragons, your Grace. You could easily fly them to the Red Keep and burn it down to rid us of the Lannister Queen forever."

"I could do that," she replied and tapped her finger on the table."And prove myself as my father's daughter. I doubt it would win me much favour with the Lords who still remember his cruelty."

"Wars are never bloodless," Aurane Waters countered."How much blood was spilled that King Aegon was able to triumph over his sister Rhaenyra?"

"Too much for most people's taste, my Lord," Tyrion Lannister added."And he wasn't even able to rule for long. He was poisoned if I remember correctly."

"You are right, Lord Lannister," young Lord Sunglass agreed.

Aurane Waters laughed again and took a sip from his cup.

"You should consider a marriage, your Grace," young Lord Sunglass added."There are many who will consider you a foreigner, but a marriage could earn you trust."

"Indeed," Aurane Waters agreed."Sadly, there are not many eligible matches left for you to consider, your Grace. Willas Tyrell is a man of honest character, but he is a cripple. His Lords may not voice it openly, but many of them look down on him for his disability. The Lord of the Vale is a sickly boy with a nasty temper. Edmure Tully is already married to a Frey girl and his lands are still occupied by the Lannisters. Then there is the North...recent rumours say that the North is now ruled by Eddard Stark's bastard son. They made him King."

 _Stark_ , was the name of the enemy, but Ser Barristan told her about her father's crimes.

 _He murdered Rickard and Brandon Stark_ , she recalled and shuddered when she recalled the memory. Yet this piece of information is rather surprising. Tyrion told her that the Starks were exterminated by his family.

"Gods be good!" Tyrion Lannister muttered to himself."The sullen bastard boy is now a King?"

"And this sullen bastard," she repeated."You know him?"

Lord Tyrion sighed and nodded his head in confirmation.

"I accompanied him to the Wall. A grim fellow this Jon Snow, but it seems he is now a King. How the times change."

"I don't care if he is grim," she replied."Can he be trusted?"

Her question amused Aurane Waters.

"The rumours say he allowed the Wildings to pass the Wall and and that he fed the bastard of Bolton to his direwolf. His enemies call him an oathbreaker, a skinchanger…make of that what you will, your Grace."

On the contrary, Daenerys didn't know what to make of that. She doesn't care what they call him, but he is the bastard son of Eddard Stark. She doubts he has a favorable view of the Mad King's daughter…

"I only knew him as a sullen boy, your Grace," Tyrion Lannister remarked and put his goblet down."I am sure he has changed, but it is worth a try. In the worst case he will simply refuse our invitation."

"Very well," she replied after a brief moment of silence had passed between them."Write to him and make our intentions clear to him. I intend to rule all of the Seven Kingdoms."

…

 **As always, thank you for the reviews.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sansa**

The morning dawned with a velvet sky. Sansa stepped outside and found the guards training in the courtyard like every morning. It was Maester Wolkan who woke her as Lady Brienne announced her return in company of Podrick and the Blackfish.

Her mother always spoke very kindly about the elderly knight and her brother Bran always admired him for his many valiant deeds. Sansa only hoped he is as happy to meet her as she is happy to meet him.

Fastening her cloak around her shoulders she made her way down the steps. By now the sky had cleared and the first sunlight was reaching through the thick clouds. _A beautiful day for a duel_ , she thought and wondered if Jon is nervous.

Jon and the guards went to the godswood to prepare for the trial and have yet to return. When Sansa asked him why the trial has to take place in the godwood, Jon told her that old gods will be watching over them.

"They are coming, my Lady," Garrin, the Captain of the Guards announced. He is a young man of two and five, but he proved himself in the Battle of the Bastards and Jon named him Captain of the Guards.

"Aye," she agreed and spotted Lady Brienne from afar. Her armour was polished and beautiful to behold. Podrick rode behind her, followed by a man, perched on a mighty steed. He was dressed in blue-and-red, the colors of House Tully, but his face was covered by a helmet.

Yet he didn't come alone. There were several others, probably former Tully men, who rode behind him. Sansa counted a dozen men.

"Lady Brienne," Sansa greeted the Lady Knight across the courtyard and graced her with a smile. She feared for her safety when she sent her to Riverrun."It is good to have you back."

"It eases my heart to see you as well, my Lady," Lady Brienne replied and lowered her head in greeting."I heard you were more successful in your task than we, my Lady. Sadly, Riverrun is now back in the hands of the Lannisters."

The news dimmed her already low mood, but Sansa tried to hide it as she prepared to greet her Grand-Uncle. By the time the Blackfish crawled from his horse he had his helmet removed.

Sansa found little of her mother in his weary face. Only his summer blue eyes, so much of her own, told her that he is a Tully.

"I didn't believe it when the Lady told me about it, but you are alive," he said, his voice alight with sadness and bitterness.

"You are not the first one to remark on my resemblance to my Lady mother, Grand-Uncle," she replied and graced him with the brightest of smiles."I am pleased to finally meet you."

Her words coaxed a smile from the man's lips and he spread his gloved hands. Sansa didn't hesitate to move into his embrace and placed a kiss on his cheek like one ought to do with an elderly Uncle.

"And I am pleased to meet you," he replied at last and eyed her from head to toe. Another smile, much brighter than before, washed over his lips.

"You truly are Cat's girl," he remarked and brushed his hand over her braided hair."The same hair and the same eyes," he added and let his gaze sweep over the assembled group of people."I heard your half-brother was named King and that your brother Rickon lives...Is that true?"

"It is true," she confirmed."The Ironborn didn't kill Rickon. He is alive and well, though not himself. He was so very young when he left and calls me mother."

"Understandable," the Blackfish replied, sadness returning to his face."And your half-brother? Where is he?"

"Jon is in the godswood," she replied vaguely. She didn't really want to discuss these matters out in the open."There is going to be a Trial by Combat...I will explain it to you if you care to hear about it."

"Of course," he confirmed and she couldn't help but to smile, before inclining her head to look at Lady Brienne and her squire.

"You are welcome to join us. I am sure you are tired from the long ride. A cup of wine and a warm hearth awaits you."

"I would be a pleasure," Lady Brienne replied, her pale face lightened up by a smile. Prodrick appeared equally happy and grinned from one ear to the other.

Sansa stirred the fire while her Grand-Uncle discarded his heavy cloak and settled down in the chair next to the window. Lady Brienne unfastened her blade and sat down while Podrick was happily nipping on a piece of cake.

"Your half-brother promised me the head of the traitor who instigated the downfall of our families," the Blackfish said after a moment of silence passed between them.

"I know," she replied and poured a cup of wine for herself and the others. Then she made her way over to her Uncle and handed him his cup."You are lucky to make it here in time. The traitor my brother was speaking of in his letter is Lord Petyr Baelish. He started it all."

He Uncle nearly dropped the cup, his blue eyes wide in shock. With a trembling hand he placed the cup down on the nearby table and gave Sansa a searching look

.

"I don't understand…," he trailed off. Sansa exhaled deeply and braced herself for his reaction. Lord Baelish told her how much kindness the Blackfish used to show him as a boy.

"It was he who started to War of the Five Kings...he asked Aunt Lysa to sent my mother a letter in which she accused the Lannisters of murdering Jon Arryn. In truth he asked Aunt Lysa to poison Lord Arryn, but that is only one of his many crimes. He betrayed my Lord Father and bribed the Gold Cloaks to take Queen Cersei's side and he sold me off to the Boltons. I trusted him, because he smuggled me out of King's Landing, but that was just another one of his lies."

Tears were burning in her eyes by the time she had finished her recount of Petyr Baelish's crimes.

The Blackfish was utterly silent, his face taking a waxen complexion. Then he hit his hand on the table, nearly throwing the bottle on the ground.

"That cunt!" he cursed."I never thought he had it in him!"

Sansa understood his anger and knelt down next to him to squeeze his arm.

"He fooled us all. It is not your fault, Grand-Uncle."

"Maybe," the Blackfish answered through gritted teeth and grasped the table, turning his knuckles white. Then he lifted his head, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers.

"Where is he?"

"Lord Royce put Lord Baelish under custody. Jon will fight his champion...that is why I said you are lucky to come in time."

"Trial by Combat," he said, a murderous expression taking hold of his face."Why?"

"Because I have no proof for these accusations. My word stands against Petyr Baelish's word. Jon thinks that is the best way...his enemy is Ser Lyn Corbray."

"Ser Lyn Corbray?" Lady Brienne asked, who had been silent throughout the whole conversation."That is a strong enemy. I saw him fight before...your brother should allow me to fight for him."

"Lady Brienne speaks true," the Blackfish agreed."A King should not to fight for himself."

"I told Jon the same," Sansa agreed."But he is stubborn. I doubt you will be able to change his mind. However, I do trust him...he is a good fighter."

"I hope so," the Blackfish replied and rose back to his feet, his cup of wine still untouched."But it matters not. If your half-brother fails then I will gladly cut off Petyr's head. I am old and I have nothing to lose."

Sansa didn't know what to answer to that and forced a smile over her lips.

"I ought to go...I wasn't sure if you intend to join," she added in an unsure voice.

"Of course I will join," the Blackfish insisted and hastily fastened his cloak."I told you...if your brother fails then I will kill Petyr myself. No Lyn Corbray will stand in my way of revenge."

The godswood was dappled in soft sunlight, the fresh fallen snow glittering like diamonds beneath her boots.

It was a far too beautiful morning to shed blood.

Most of the prominent Lords that yet remained in Winterfell came to pay witness to the spectacle and were already assembled when Sansa, the Blackfish, Lady Brienne and Podrick joined them.

Jon was there in company of Tormund and Lady Val. Their faces were devoid of their usual smiles, but that was to be expected.

"Jon," she greeted him and a moment later he lifted his head, a seldom smile showing on his pale lips."Lady Brienne has returned and we have a guest…," she continued, but the

Blackfish decided to introduce himself.

"I am Ser Brynden Tully," the Blackfish introduced himself in a polite voice."I heard much about you from Lady Brienne and I received your massage."

Jon lowered his head in greeting.

"A pleasure to meet you, Sir Brynden...I am glad that you decided to join us."

Her Grand-Uncle gritted his teeth, but remained polite.

"When you promised me the head of a traitor I thought you meant Walder Frey, but your sister informed me about the true traitor. I hope for you that your sword arm stands strong or

I will have to take this matter in my own hands."

Surprisingly, her brother smiled.

"That is good to hear, but I don't think that will be necessary. I will defeat Ser Corbray...I fought worse enemies than him."

The Blackfish snorted and opened his mouth in reply, but then Lord Baelish made his appearance.

Muttering and whispering followed him as she stepped forward, followed by his lackeys and his Champion, Ser Lyn Corbray. As always he carried a smug smile on his lips, his hand lovingly smoothing over the pommel of his sword Lady Forlorn.

"The Champions have assembled," Lord Royce declared in his booming voice. His face was grim, but Sansa knew that he is praying for Lord Baelish's demise. He told her so only days ago, though he pretends to be neutral."Who will fight for Lady Sansa?"

"I will," Jon replied and put on his helmet, his hand coming to rest on Longclaw.

"Who will fight for Lord Baelish?"

"I will," Ser Corbray declared proudly and bared his teeth."Lady Foron thirsts for blood."

Snickering and laughter could be heard from Lord Baelish's lackeys, but that was no surprise to her. There has to be a reason Lord Baelish places trust in his Champion.

"May the gods judge wisely!" Lord Baelish added, a smile curling on his lips as his eyes came to rest upon her.

 _You will regret your betrayal_ , his gaze told her, but then the Blackfish stepped forward and revealed himself to Lord Baelish.

"It has been quite a while, Petyr," he greeted and Petyr Baelish paled visibly. It lasted only the blink of a moment, but it gave her comfort."Or should I call you, Lord Protector of the Vale?"

Lord Baelish smiled and lowered his head in greeting.

"It is always a pleasure to see you again, good Sir. I am indeed Lord Protector of the Vale and I intend to return there once this farce is over."

"Then I wish you luck," the Blackfish replied and touched Sansa's shoulder."I have seen too many man lose their heads."

Lord Baelish's smile was unyielding.

"I appreciate your concern, my Lord, but I have little time to spare," he replied and shifted his attention back to Lord Royce.

"We should be begin."

"I don't take orders from you, Lord Baelish," Lord Royce replied and announced the beginning of the fight."May the gods judge fairly!"

Sansa exhaled deeply and felt the Blackfish's hand enclosing hers. She hardly knew him, but it gave her the comfort she needed.

Silence reigned as the two opponents started to encircled each other like two hungry wolves. Their swords were beautiful to behold, the sunlight wafting off the smoky surface of the Valyrian steel.

Jon's first blows were careful as if to measure the enemy. As expected, Lord Corbray took it as a weakness on her brother's side and started to rain a barrage of blows against his shield.

The rattling of the steel rang through the godwood, mixing with the soft whispering of the wind and the muttering of the onlookers. Every hit against her brother's shield sent a shiver down her spine, but Jon stood as strong as his shield.

Thus it continued, Jon meeting his opponent's heated cuts with his shield and parrying others with his blade when they strayed into dangerous territory. The one-sidedness of the fight scared her, but when she laid eyes on Jon she only saw calmness. He gave the impression that he is waiting for something, a mistake of his enemy…

It was only subtle, but Sansa also noticed that Ser Corbray is slowing down.

 _He getting tired_ , she realized and only a moments later Jon made his move. It was only the blink of a moment that Ser Corbray's left side was open for attack and Jon didn't hesitate to act. Quickly he thrusted his sword forward, the tip of the blade biting into the knights thigh. Blood was soon tinging his polished armour and the painful grunts leaving his mouth told her that it hurt.

Yet the act only helped to heaten up the temper of Ser Corbray. Huffing and puffing, the man dealt Jon a heated barrage of blows. Jon gasped while Ser Corbray grunted in pain, dragging his hurt foot with every step. It slowed him down, but Jon made no attempt to put an end to the fight.

Left and right the blades met, filling the air with the song of steel. It looked as if the two men were painting invisibly pictures into the air while Sansa was barely able to breathe.

 _Make it end_ , she whispered to Jon, who parried another blow to his left. _Make it end._

It continued like this, one blow after another, while Ser Lyn Corbray was beginning to flaunder under her brother's counter attacks. Sansa bit her lips as she forced herself to watch, her tight grip probably pressing all the blood out of the Blackfish's hand.

Her heart nearly jumped out of her breast when Ser Corbray lunged forward to strike at Jon's left, barely missing his shoulder. Another quick strike followed, a fatal mistake on the proud knight's side. Jon made use of this moment of vulnerability and shoved his shield forward, hitting it hard in his opponents face.

A loud gasp escaped the man, but that was not the end of it. Jon made use of the moment and kicked the man's wounded foot. Another loud cry of pain followed that made Sansa wince.

"It is done, child," she heard the Blackfish's hoarse voice echoing in her ears and his free hand smoothing over the top of her head. It made her feel like a little girl, but made her feel safe enough to open her eyes.

And he was right. The battle was over, Ser Corbray sprawled on the ground and Jon's sword resting on his neck.

"Yield!" Jon demanded."You are a good fighter and Petyr Baelish is not a man worth dying for."

The godswood was drenched in utter silence, the whispering of the the wind the only other sound in her hears. Sansa inclined her head to look at Lord Baelish.

He looked like frozen to the ground, his face the colour of ash.

"Yield!" Jon repeated his offer, but the proud knight spat on the ground beneath Jon's boots. Sansa averted her gaze when her brother cut his neck, blood like fresh summer wine drenching the snow beneath their feet.

It was done.

The guards dragged Ser Lyn's body away while everyone turned to look at Lord Baelish.

Now only one traitor remained among them.

"Garrin, fetch me a block!" Jon told the new Captain of the Guards.

"Gladly, your Grace."

Lord Baelish was silent, not a single clever word leaving his mouth.

"Do you have any last words, my Lord?" Jon asked, but Lord Baelish's eyes were resting on Sansa."Lady Sansa...I have known you since you were a little child...I saved you..:loved your mother."

Sansa's exhaled deeply and gave him a cold look.

"If you truly loved my mother you wouldn't have betrayed my Lord Father. It were the Freys who killed her, but you are just as much at fault for her death."

"Lady Sansa!" he pleaded again as the guards pressed his squirming head on the wooden block."Lady Sansa!"

"You better keep still or this will hurt!" Jon muttered before unsheathing his blade and bringing it down in one clear cut.

It was finally over.

…

 **Daenerys**

The morning dawned in red, the color of blood. Dragonstone proved as grim as her brother's stories promised. As a child she dreamed of coming here and she made good use of her time to explore the castle to her heart's desire. In these quiet moments she felt like a young girl and not like the Queen she is trying to become. Missandei joined her sometimes and often frowned about the ugly gargoyles decorating nearly every wall. At other times they simply watched the waves crashing against the cliffs of the island, her children circling proudly above their heads.

Yet these quiet days were soon over. Only a week after their arrival the Dornish Princess Arianne arrived with her Dornish entourage. A few days later Willas Tyrell followed in company of his grandmother.

Tyrion informed her beforehand that the Dornish and the Tyrells hold little love for each other, but Daenerys saw no dark looks exchanged between the two young heirs. She asked Lady Olenna about this supposed feud and she was kind enough to assure her that it died with her son and Doran Martell.

Daenerys knew about Mace Tyrell's death before coming here, but the death of Doran Martell came as a surprise. He was apparently sick, but Lord Tyrion voiced suspicions regarding his sudden passing.

 _Prince Doran was a man of peace and there are rumours that Princess Arianne held little love for her Lord Father's politics. It wouldn't surprise me if they murdered him like my poor niece._

Daenerys didn't know what to make of her Hand's words and regarded the Dornish Princess closely as she continued to sip wine from her jaden cup.

"The wine is good," Princess Arianne complimented her softly when she noticed Daenerys' stare. She looked nothing like her brother Quentyn. Short and well-endowed she could turn the head of every man and is now the ruling Princess of Dorne.

While Daenerys never had any intention to wed Quentyn Martell she couldn't help but to regret his death.

Ser Barristan took care to cremate his body to offer it to Princess Arianne. If she was sad about her brother's passing it didn't show in her demeanour.

"We found the wine in the stocks of Dragonstone."

Her remark coaxed a smile from Willas Tyrell, who had been more or less silent throughout the whole evening.

Unlike Princess Arianne's brother is rather beautiful, through his twisted leg gave him a weak appearance.

"I cannot believe that someone as austere as Stannis Baratheon has such fine wine in his stocks," he remarked and circled his goblet in his hand, a thoughtful expression washing over his features.

This roused Daenerys interest.

"Did you know him, my Lord?" she asked and nipped on a piece of fruit."I heard he sailed North and didn't return."

"No, but his brother Renly Baratheon was often a guest in our home. He and my brother Loras were good friends. He was once wed to my sister Margaery...before his untimely death. Renly held no love for Stannis."

"I see," she said and placed her goblet back on the table."And this Renly...I heard your father crowned him King and that he died rather suddenly."

Lord Tyrell's face told her nothing of his feelings on the matter."An assassin killed him, your Grace."

"Some say it was dark magic...the work of Stannis' witch from Asshai," Lord Varys offered and earned himself a dark look from Lady Olenna, also known as the Queen of Thorns.

"You surprise me, Lord Varys," the elderly woman remarked and clucked her tongue."I didn't take you for a man who believes in fairy tales."

"I met her," Theon Greyjoy, Lady Asha Greyjoy's brother remarked quietly. Daenery couldn't look at him without wincing, but his words were of interest to her, though they earned him hostile looks from the Tyrells.

Daenerys ignored them.

"Go on," Daenerys prodded and graced him with a smile.

"The Witch...I met her," he added and swallowed hard."Last I saw her she was in company of Jon Snow...now the King in the North."

"Eddard Stark's bastard keeps the company of witches?" Lady Olenna asked, an amused smile curling on her lips."Well, that might explain how he was made King."

"King Regent," Lord Varys corrected."At least that is what the rumours say. They also say that Robb Stark legitimized him and named him his successor. Not that it matters, we will hopefully soon make his acquaintance."

"Does that mean the King in the North will join us?" inquired Princess Arianne.

"We have yet to receive an answer, but that is the plan," Tyrion Lannister answered."But that does not need to concern you, Princess. We have a war to plan."

"Indeed," Lady Olenna agreed, a less friendly expression washing over her face. Daenerys identified it as anger, bitterness and grief.

Upon her arrival the Queen of Thorns confirmed to them what they already knew. The Tyrell Queen and a great part of the court was burned when a wildfire explosion destroyed the Sept of Baelor. And like Tyrion the Queen of Thorns is convinced that it was Queen Cersei's work.

"Speaking of the war, why don't we start now?"

Tyrion grinned and poured wine into his cup.

"I thought tomorrow would be more appropriate…," he began, but the Queen cut him off and rolled her eyes.

"There is no need for that, Lord Tyrion. Let's be honest and address the matter at hand: Cersei Lannister. She is the reason we are here and ready to support her Grace. I appreciate the wine and even the fine cakes, but I would prefer to hear about your plans."

Tyrion sighed deeply and put the bottle of wine back on the table.

"Always honest and to the point, my Lady. Well, I shouldn't be surprised, but I fear my plan will disappoint you. There will be no burning of the Red Keep like many of you are hoping for."

"Nobody asked for that," Willas Tyrell replied and cocked his head to look at Daenerys."But you will certainly take the capital as soon as possible? Or is there an impediment we should know about, your Grace?"

Daenery swallowed hard, for she knew this question would come up.

"There is," she replied softly, her gaze flickering to Lord Varys.

"My birds brought me worrisome news. It appears Cersei Lannister ordered a whole new stock of wildfire. It makes us believe that she will not hesitate to use it against us should we assault the city. Thousands could die within seconds."

Willas Tyrell's face changed to a grimace of sadness, the Queen of Thorns tapped her finger on the table and Princess Arianne appeared stunned by this new revelation.

"Very well," the Queen of Thorns muttered."What is countermeasure for this wildfire?".

"Diplomacy."

His answer made Lady Olenna snort.

"What use can diplomacy play?" Lady Olenna asked, her golden eyes fixed on Tyrion."Cersei Lannister is beyond reason. She will not give up the crown unless you take it from her dead corpse."

"I agree with Lady Olenna's assessment," Princess Arianne added."Only Fire and Blood will rid us of Cersei Lannister."

"Oh, I know how you Dornish fight wars," Lord Tyrion remarked sharply."By poisoning innocent girls."

Daenerys was surprised by his forwardness, but she supposed it was crawling under his skin to speak his mind in this matter. When he heard about the death of his niece he spent three days drinking himself into a stupor, before vomiting out his guts for another three days.

Discomfort showed on Princess Arianne, but she kept her composure.

"I had no hand in her death...that was the work of my Uncle's lover. Still, I executed her for her crimes, though I regret doing so. She has daughters who are now motherless. As you can see...I made sure that justice was served. Where is the justice for my Aunt Elia and her children, my Lord Lannister? I heard the Mountain yet lives. Only when he is nothing more than a heap of ash on the ground will I find peace."

The Princess' words hit Lord Tyrion deeply, for it took him a long time to find an appropriate reply.

"I heard you," he replied at last."But it makes the loss of my niece not easier for me. She was a sweet girl."

"So was my niece Rhaenys," Arianne countered, her golden-brown eyes unyielding.

"We all lost loved ones to these silly power struggles. My father dared too much and doomed our family. And while I hoped for a quick end of this war, I can understand her Grace's hesitation to sacrifice an entire city to an inferno of wildfire. It will make it only harder for her to bring the other Lords to her cause if she steps into her father's shadow. Cersei Lannister is already spreading false propaganda and calls the incident at the Sept of Baelor an accident caused by one of the Mad King's wildfire stashes," Lord Tyrell added his opinion and gave his grandmother a smile."Don't you think we should hear Lord Tyrion's suggestions, before we judge him?"

His grandmother patted his hand and met Lord Tyrion's gaze.

"Very well. Tell us about your diplomacy."

"I made Cersei a generous offer: She may retire peacefully if she gives up the crown without a bloody struggle, though I doubt she will agree to my suggestion. As expected, I received no answer and I doubt I ever will."

"What a surprise…," the Queen of Thorns threw in, but allowed Tyrion to continue.

"That is why we have need of your help. Our goal is to cut off all supply lines to the capital and to force my sister into submission," Lord Tyrion explained, his two-coloured eyes flickering to Lord Tyrell."When I was Hand of your King your Lord Father cut off the roseroad which cause food riots. My sister's position is weak and the smallfolk is angered. If we are lucky they might rid us of our problem without a single fight."

"That is quite an optimistic view," Lady Olenna remarked skeptical."I never thought it possible that Cersei would dare to murder my granddaughter and yet she did. Do not underestimate the woman's fantasy."

"You are right to be sceptical, my Lady," Lord Varys added."But my birds informed me that there is already opposition brewing within the city walls. With a little help we may be able to heat up the situation and the new Queen will lose her position before she has a chance to get comfortable."

"I assume you want me to block the roseroad again, my Lord?" Lord Tyrell asked Lord Tyrion.

"Indeed," Tyrion confirmed."But also the goldroad, though this task will not need as many men as closing off the roseroad. The goldroad is not appropriate for the transport of soldiers."

Lord Tyrell remained hesitant.

"The truth is...I am not sure if I can spare that many men. My father's death was a harsh blow for my family. I informed my Lords about my allegiance with her Grace and many of them remain hesitant. Only Lord Redwyne, Lord Rowan and Lord Tarly promised their support."

"And Lord Hightower?" Tyrion asked."Your mother was a Hightower..," he trailed off.

"She was, but Lord Hightower seems to believe the rumours Cersei Lannister is spreading about the Sept's destruction. Maybe I can convince him to change his mind, but until then you will have to make do with Lord Rowan's and Lord Tarly's men. Recent reports indicate that Cersei Lannisters is calling her men back from the Riverlands. Your supply is dependent on the Reach, your Grace. I am expecting an attack."

Lord Tyrion nodded his head in understanding.

"Lord Tarly's and Lord Rowan's men should be enough."

"Good to hear," the Princess of Dorne remarked."And what part will Dorne play in your plans?"

"The Dornish and our Queen's armies will secure the Stormlands for our cause. They are supporting my sister, because she apparently promised them to name Robert Baratheon's bastard daughter the heir to the Stormlands."

"Then Cersei is more desperate than anticipated," The Queen of Thorns remarked coldly."Maybe your plan has merit or maybe she will blow up the city anyway...which brings me back to the beginning. Fire and blood, your Grace. Fire and Blood."

Daenerys sighed deeply.

"It is not only the safety of the city that worries me, my Lady. My dragons may be rather resistant against fire, but wildfire is much hotter than common fire. I don't want to risk their lives when I undertook a great sacrifice to return them to the world."

"We understand that," Willas Tyrell replied calmly and turned to look at Asha Greyjoy."And what will be Lady Greyjoy's task?"

"I envisioned it this way: The Greyjoy Fleet will ferry part of the Dornish troopes to the Stormlands and the other part will move up the Prince's Pass. That should help to confuse the Stormlords. Once this is done Lady Greyjoy will use her fleet to close off Blackwater Bay to tighten the noose around my sister's neck. Aurane Waters also promised us ships to aid us in this task."

"And how many of your men will you send to aid the Dornish?" the Queen of Thorns asked Daenerys.

"I intend to bolster the Dornish troops with my Dothraki. They will ride under Dornish banners to keep up appearances. You may think them wild barbarians, but they obey my command," Daenery explained."They will adapt...this I can assure you."

Then she shifted her attention back to Willas Tyrell."My Hand may advice against it, but I am inclined to offer you my men."

"My Lords would spit in my face if I allowed Dothraki among their ranks. Sellswords or the Unsullied could be of use to me, but I would prefer the sellswords."

"You shall have the sellswords...the Unsullied will be otherwise occupied. My Hand wants them to take Casterly Rock. He knows a clever way to take the castle."

"And what use is it to take Casterly Rock?" The Queen of Thorns asked.

"It is meant as a distraction for my sister. She will not tolerate that her hated brother takes her family's ancestral home from her," Lord Tyrion explained quickly.

"And how do you intend to accomplish this feat?"

"The sewers."

"Sounds clever," the Queen of Thorns quipped."And I suppose this complicated plan is the only way we will get revenge against Cersei?"

Daenerys nodded her head.

"I want to give Lord Tyrion's plans a chance, but if it fails to convince Cersei..I have not forgotten the words of my house: Fire and Blood."

This earned her a frown from Tyrion, but smiles from the Queen of Thorns and Princess Arianne.

"Very well...you have our support," the Queen of Thorns confirmed.

"And mine," Princess Arianne added.

"And mine," Lady Asha agreed and lowered her head.

Daenerys should feel elated to receive their support, but she couldn't help but to worry. Lord Tyrion is clever, but he is still a Lannister.

"You look worried, your Grace," Ser Barristan remarked later.

She sighed deeply and graced Ser Barristan with a smile.

"I don't know," she admitted."What do you think about Lord Tyrion's plans? You have yet to voice criticism on this matter."

He frowned and stroked his beard.

"I didn't think it is my place….I am not your Hand and I don't understand much about politics…," he trailed off.

"And yet I want to hear your opinion on the matter."

"Very well," he said and moved closer."I am not good with words, but your brother once told me this: better an end with terror than terror without end...he was referring to your father."

"When did he give you these wise words?" she asked. It always warmed her heart to heard about her family.

"On the day he started to plan the Tourney of Harrenhal...it was meant to be a meeting between the Great Lords to conspire against your father the Mad King."

"Sadly, nothing came of it," she replied and shrugged her shoulders."But I understand what you are trying to say...you think it better to put a quick and bloody end to Cersei Lannister's rule."

"That is for you to decide, your Grace. I gave my advice...make of it what you will. No matter what happens...you will always have my loyalty."

...

 **As always, thank you for the reviews.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Jon**

His arm still ached, but the paste Maester Wolkan was applying regularly helped to ease the pain, even if it smelled like foul eggs.

"Now the bindings, your Grace," Maester Wolkan added gently and started to wind the the white binding over his shoulder. He did this ever-diligently and made Jon recall a rather stupid incident that happened to him when he was seven. Robb dared him to mount a rather wild horse and he ended up breaking his shoulder. For weeks he had to keep to bed, but Robb was always there, trying to cheer him up, much to the dislike of Lady Stark.

"Thank you," he thanked Maester Wolkan after he finished his work and pulled on his tunic, followed by his surcoat and then his cloak."It feels much better now."

"It is my duty to serve," Maester Wolkan replied and lowered his head."I also called for your sister and Sir Brynden Tully like you asked of me, your Grace."

"Thank you again, Maester Wolkan," he said and closed the door behind him, before making his way down the steps to cross the corridor leading to Lord Stark's study. Jon avoided to use it, because stirred up sad memories, but it was the best place to speak in private.

Carefully, he picked up the letter he had read for a hundred times. Tyrion's handwriting was familiar as ever, but see the signed name of Daenerys and her hundred titles made it feel real to him. She is alive and well.

"Jon!" Sansa's voice snapped him out of his thoughts."Jon!"

He lifted his head and found her standing at the entrance of the room, next to her the Blackfish, a serious look showing on his face.

"I apologize…," he replied and lowered his head in greeting."My mind was straying..."

"No need for apologies, brother," Sansa answered and moved closer to touch his brow."Though you look rather pale."

He brushed her hand away and forced a smile over his lips.

"I am well sister," he assured her, before shifting his attention to the Blackfish."I am sure you are wondering why I called you here. You know that I will soon depart for Dragonstone, but there is a matter we need to discuss before I leave."

The Blackfish frowned, disagreement written all over his face.

"What matter do we need to discuss, your Grace?"

"A matter that concerns your home," Jon explained and ignored his sharp look."I assume you want to retake the Riverlands?"

"Of course," he replied in a way that left no room for questions."Why are you even asking? Are you taking me for a fool?"

"No, Sir Brynden," he replied."I would never joke about something like that. I intend to give you an army. Lord Edmure needs to be freed from his imprisonment and the Freys need to die."

"Jon means well, Grand-Uncle," Sansa whispered and touche the Blackfish's shoulder."He is not taking you for a fool...he really intends to give you an army. His goal is to unite the high lords against the enemy lurking beyond the Wall."

The Blackfish's face softened when he heard Sansa's words, but his face told Jon that he didn't quite trust him.

"You mean to give me the Knights of the Vale, don't you?" the Blackfish asked."Or is that the reason you are seeking out this Dragon Queen? To ask her to burn down the Twins? Don't misunderstand me...I would love to see the Twins burns, but I know what her price will be...submission to another Targaryen ruler."

"No," Jon replied quickly."I spoke to Lord Royce. He is prepared to offer you four-thousand men. Is that sufficient?"

"It is a beginning," the Blackfish remarked hesitatingly."I am sure the Riverlords will rally to my side once I return with an army behind my back. I promise you this...I will drive out the Lannister scum. Yet that doesn't mean I trust this Dragon Queen...her father murdered your Uncle and Grandfather."

"I know that," Jon replied and nodded his head in understanding."But I don't judge children for their parents actions."

"And I don't know what to make of you," the Blackfish admitted openly, finally addressing the tension between them."Catelyn disliked you greatly. When Robb proposed to make you his successor she protested vehemently and I agreed with her, but that is the past. I am trying to trust you, but it is hard for me to do so."

His words hurt, but they were no surprise to him, yet they stirred an old rage, buried deep inside his heart.

"I don't expect friendship from you, Sir Brynden," he replied honestly."Lady Stark never had any obligation to love me, but I was never a danger to Robb. I never had any intention to steal anything from him. I would have been happy to live out my days as Robb's Captain of the Guards if your niece had allowed me to remain in Winterfell. I am honest when I say that I hated her for her cold looks. It was the reason I joined the Night's Watch, but as you rightly said...that is the past. Robb and Lady Stark are dead and gone. I can only promise you this...Rickon will rule after me. Does that help to ease your mistrust?"

A heavy moment of silence passed between them. Jon exchanged a look with Sansa, who had been silent throughout the whole conversation.

Finally, the Blackfish nodded his head, his eyes flickering to Sansa and then back to Jon.

"I understand my command, your Grace," he said at last and graced Sansa a smile."I will leave as quickly as possible if it pleases you."

Sadness showed on Sansa's face, but she had agreed with Jon's suggestion and played her part.

"We shouldn't waste time to inform Lord Royce," Sansa said, a hesitant smile showing on her lips."Perhaps after supper?"

"That would please me," the Blackfish replied and moved to the door, but stopped to grace Sansa with another smile.

"I will see you during supper, child."

Sansa nodded her head and closed the door behind him, before turning around to look at Jon.

"I think you finally broke through that stubborn head of his," Sansa japed, a smile showing on her lips.

Jon returned her smile.

"Are you sure?" he asked teasingly.

"No," she admitted honestly and crossed the room to look out of the window."But he will do as you asked of him. He is thirsting for revenge."

Then she turned around, leaned against the table and gave him a questioning look.

"Now...tell me," she prodded gently."What last instructions do you have for me?"

"No further instructions," he replied and shook his head."I already gave you all my instructions...I called you here, because I need your advice."

Surprise was evident on her face.

"My advice?"

"It concerns a delicate piece of information that needs to be relayed to the right person."

"Information? To whom?"

"The Tyrells and Lord Tyrion. There is a traitor among them...Lord Randyll Tarly."

"Tarly?" she asked and paled visibly."I recall that Lady Margaery called him one of her father's loyal bannermen…," she continued, but shook her head as if to banish away the positive things she had just mentioned."Power….that is most likely reason for betrayal. Willas Tyrell is a cripple...maybe this Randyll Tarly thinks he will do better than the current lord."

Jon could only agree with her assessment. What he heard from Sam about his father painted him as a man who despised all weakness. Even being heir of Highgarden would not be enough to change such a stubborn outlook on the world.

"I agree with your assessment, sister. Sadly, that doesn't change my current dilemma. Say I write Lord Tyrion or Lord Tyrell about this supposed betrayal...Do you think they would believe me?"

"Can't you relay the information in person?" she countered in an unsure tone."You are going to Dragonstone."

"Then it will be too late," he replied and ruffled his hair in frustration.

She sighed and pondered over the problem, before giving her answer.

"I could write to Highgarden...Lady Olenna knows me...maybe she will believe me."

Jon laughed.

"And what will you tell her? That an ominous bird told you that Lord Tarly will betray her?"

"First you need to give me more details," she explained, an expression of determination taking hold of her face."What did this betrayal entail? The more details the better the lie I can make up for you."

Jon couldn't help but to chuckle. Lord Stark would be upset if he heard Sansa's words, but it was a lie that brought them the Knights of the Vale and it was a lie that saved his life as an infant.

Then closed his eyes and tried to recall details that could be of help to them. He wasn't involved in Daenerys war and thus he had only a vague knowledge of what happened. And later, when he could have asked Daenerys about it, he always avoided the topic. The future was too uncertain to concern oneself with the uncomfortable past and he uncertain future.

"All I recall is that the Lannisters besieged Highgarden and that Lord Tarly promised to free the castle from the enemy's hands, but turned his cloak. The Lannisters plundered Highgarden and killed Lady Olenna. Daenerys Targaryen used her dragons to burn the Lannister army. In the end Lord Tarly and his son refused to bend the knee and she burned them for their treachery."

Sansa's eyes widened in fear.

"She burned them?"

"Aye."

"And you still want to go there?"

"Daenerys won't kill me...I assure you," he replied quickly, realization washing over his sister's features.

"Daenerys," she repeated."You called her Daenerys...How well do you know her?"

He exhaled deeply and met her gaze.

"Very well," he replied in a trembling voice."Very well."

Sansa swallowed hard, her face open in understanding. _She understands_ , he was sure, but Sansa left the topic alone and returned to the topic at hand.

How to best reveal Randyll Tarly's treason.

She remained silent for a long time, before abruptly rushing to the the table littered with papers. She searched for a minute and picked a letter from the table.

"Samwell Tarly," she said at last and smiled at him."You told me that he is your friend and the son of this Randyll Tarly. He will be the piece of truth in our lie."

"Piece of truth?"

"He mentioned in his last letter that he visited Hornhill. We could justify our knowledge by citing your friend as our source. Nobody can deny that he is Randyll Tarly's son."

"And who do you think should I write to?"

"I think we should write two letters. You will write to Lord Tyrion and I will write to Highgarden. Then we hope for the best."

Jon nodded his head. It was worth a try.

"We will do as you say, sister."

...

 **Daenerys**

"The black dress?" Missandei asked her, a happy smile curling on her friend's lips. She has been like this since Greyworm left for Casterly Rock. Missandei denied it, but her flushed cheeks confirmed Daenerys' suspicions.

"Yes," she replied and stepped out of her steaming bath, before starting to dry her hair."The one with the red rubies. I am a Targaryen Queen...the King in the North ought to see that."

"Of course, your Grace," Missandei replied dutifully and helped her put on the dress in question. Then she brushed through her hair and started to braid it the way she liked. The Dothraki fashion included many difficult knots, but Missandei worked diligently as ever.

"The bell too?" Missandei asked.

"Yes...like always," Daenerys replied and Missandei chuckled lightly.

"Why are you laughing?" Daenerys asked.

"I apologize, but I don't think this King in the North will understand what the bell means."

Daenerys knew this, but she didn't care. The bell is not meant to impress the King in the North, but for herself. It is a sign of her past victories.

"Put it on anyway."

Missandei nodded her head and did as she asked of her. Then she made her way over to the table to retrieve her crown. As her hand smoothed over the dragon heads she wondered if the King in the North will wear a crown.

"Your Grace…," Missandei's soft voice addressed her gently."We should go. Lord Tyrion left half an hour ago. Your guests will be waiting."

"Of course...my mind was straying," she apologized and picked up the crown, before carefully placing it on her head."We shouldn't let our guests wait."

The throne room of Dragonstone proved gloomy, it's high seat carved out of the same dark stone the whole castle was built of.

As always, her Dothraki guards took their respective places at her side, their curved blades strapped to their backs, though she doubted their guests will be a danger to her. She bid Lord Tyrion to make sure that her guests give up their weapons.

Missandei, wearing a black silk dress like her, took her place beneath the steps leading up to the seat carved into the stone walls. Above her a dozen of torches burned like small flames of dragonfire.

She got plenty of practices with petitioners during her time as Queen of Meereen, but a King is of a different station and the things Lord Tyrion told her about the Northmen made her feel unsure.

 _They are stubborn people, these Northmen. The winters are hard up in the North and they keep to themselves. Don't expect him to bend the knee to you without a proper negotiation._

The strange reply the King in the North sent to Lord Tyrion confused her only more.

 _I, Jon Snow, King Regent of the North will meet you at Dragonstone. As a gesture of trust let me give you this warning: My friend, Samwell Tarly, novice in training at the Citadel and son of Randyll Tarly informed me about his father's plans of treachery against his Lord Willas Tyrell. Do not trust his false promises of loyalty...he serves Queen Cersei…_

Daenerys' first thought was that this King in the North is trying take her for a fool, but Tyrion assured her that a son of Eddard Stark wouldn't lie about such a serious matter. Then he showed the letter to Lord Tyrell, who immediately wrote to his grandmother, who had returned to Highgarden to rule in her grandson's absence. Daenerys still doesn't know what to make of his warning.

 _It matters not_ , she thought and straightened herself as the doors opened. _Only time will tell if his predictions turn out to be true._

For now she intends to show him politeness as Lord Tyrion advised her.

Missandei's recount of her titles gave her time to take in her guests, following after Tyrion Lannister.

Right behind him walked a young man, not much older than her and garped in leather and pelt. It was clothing that belongs to a far colder climate, though even here in Dragonstone the sharp winds never fail to make her shiver.

From the distance it was hard to make out more than longish dark hair and a pale face.

Right behind him walked an elderly man, dressed in a washed-out blue surcoat and a black dusty travelling cloak, followed by a young woman. Like Lord Snow she was dressed in pelt and leather, her blond hair kept in a long braid.

They stopped in the middle of the room, listening in respectful silence to the recount of her titles.

When Missandei was finished, the young man moved up the steps, the torchlight revealing a pale, long face, framed by dark-brown hair.

 _Comely_ , would be the word to describe him. He was also very young and not particularly tall. Not that she was the kind of person to judge people by such measures.

 _A Queen does not need to be of tall stature to command her people_ , Ser Barristan had told her when she complained about her rather tiny stature. _Queen Rhaella was a fragile woman, but she always commanded her ladies with a firm hand._

 _Sadly, not my Lord Father_ , she thought and forced a polite smile over her lips as she met the young man's gaze.

His face appeared guarded as if in deep concentration.

"I am Jon Snow, King Regent to my brother Rickon Stark. Well met, your Grace," he introduced himself and lowered his head in greeting."I assume you received my reply?"

His voice sent a shiver down her spine. It was like a distant memory, though she brushed the feeling away as quickly as it had slipped into her mind.

"I am pleased that you undertook this long travel, _your Grace_ ," she forced the words over her lips. She told Tyrion to make her intentions clear to the King in the North, but both her Hand and Ser Barristan advised her to keep the proper etiquette."I hope the weather was kind?"

"The winds were kind, your Grace," the King in the North replied, his face becoming even longer as he smiled, though his dark hair helped to soften the edges of his face."May I introduce my companions?"

"Please," she told him and forced another smile over her lips."Please introduce your companions."

"This is Ser Davos Seaworth, once Hand to Stannis Baratheon, but now a valuable ally to the North," the King in the North explained and jerked his head towards the elderly man, who graced her with a disarming smile.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, your Grace."

She was completely taken back by this revelation. This man once served her enemy, but so did Ser Barristan.

"A pleasure," she replied politely, before shifting her attention to the young woman. She was beautiful in her own way, graced with sharp cheekbones and golden hair. _Like Doreah._

"And this is Val of the Free Folk. She is here to represent her people."

While the presence of Stannis Baratheon's former Hand didn't exactly thrill her she couldn't help, but to feel satisfied to see a Lady among her guests. That she was chosen as a representative of her people showed her that the Northmen are not completely averse to a woman doing other things than rearing children.

Her smile for Lady Val of the Free Folk was honest.

"Welcome...I don't know much about the Free Folk, but I am curious to hear more about your people."

"I assure you, you will hear plenty about my people, _your Grace_ ," Lady Val replied, though the way she said her titel sounded rather forced.

"Oh, I am sure about that," Lord Tyrion interrupted and clapped his hands together."We will have plenty of time to speak about such matters during supper, but now we should address the matter at hand. The reason for your visit…"

"Lord Tyrion speaks true," she continued and straightened herself in her seat."I assume you know of my intentions to rule _all of the Seven Kingdoms_?."

"I do," he replied and nodded his head."I do understand your intentions, your Grace."

"Yet your letter was rather vague on this matter," she replied quickly, before he was able to continue. Her patience was getting the better of her."What I mean is your Kingship and the North's independence."

"Very true," he confirmed, his dark eyes meeting hers. _Starry black eyes. Familiar eyes._

 _Act like a queen_ , she reminded herself as she continued to listen to him. _You are not a little girl._

"My reasons are quite clear. Whether I bend the knee will depend on the outcome of our negotiations, your Grace."

His calmness confused her, but she tried not to show it.

 _Why is he not afraid_ , she wondered. _I told Lord Tyrion to show him my dragons._

"And what if they fail?" she asked, testing his bravery."What if I told you that I won't tolerate another King? Do you understand what that would mean?"

He nodded his head, his dark hair falling into his face as he moved his head.

"War."

"War," she repeated and tried to sound intimidating."You saw my three dragons, didn't you?"

"I did," he replied, his voice laced with amusement, though not in a mocking way."They are gracious beasts. I have never seen anything like them and I have seen a great many things during my time in the Night's Watch, your Grace."

That was not the compliment she expected, but the way he voiced it didn't sound like empty flattery. It sounded as if he meant it, which made it only harder for her to remain firm in her stance.

"My dragons helped me to conquer Slaver's Bay," she continued, her gaze fixed on him."I killed the slavers who refused to obey my new laws. They would tell you that my dragons ought to be feared."

"So I have heard," he replied in an almost amused, quipping tone, that was beginning to get under her skin."And I agree, your dragons ought to be feared, but there is an enemy that even your dragons ought to fear. It is the reason I came here."

His words confused her and she searched for hint of falseness in his face. Yet she only found the solemn, observant look she saw before."What enemy are you speaking of? Do I know it's name?"

"I doubt that you have heard of them," he replied and sighed heavily, before continuing with his explanation."Most people in the south think of them as fairy tales, but we in the North know the old stories...the enemy I am speaking of are called the White Walkers or Others. They are creatures of ice and they live beyond the Wall. They can raise the death and if they ever cross the Wall they will add the rest of Westeros to their army of the dead."

She was completely taken back by his words and even Lord Tyrion appeared stunned.

"White Walkers...Others...army of the dead," she repeated the foreign words he used."Are you trying to mock me?"

Her sharp tone washed the smile from his lips and for a moment she regretted her choice of words.

"Nothing could be further from the truth, your Grace," he replied in an almost trembling voice. It was the first time she sensed fear in his demeanour, which confused her only more."And that is why I brought you a gift."

"A gift?" she asked, utterly perplexed. A gift should be something pleasant, but the way he spoke of it made it sound like something very unpleasant.

 _I cannot show fear_ , she told herself and nodded her head. _I am the blood of the dragon._

"I like gifts...show it to me, _your Grace_."

"As you wish," he replied and inclined his head to Lady Val."You know what to do."

"Of course, do not run away, _Lord Crow_ ," she replied and left the room in company of Ser Davos.

 _Lord Crow_ , she thought and found it rather fitting name. His clothes were dark as were his eyes and his hair. Her amusement was only heightened as the King in the North's two companions returned with a handful of men, carrying a wooden box.

 _An animal perhaps_ , she wondered and swallowed hard.

"Reveal my gift to you…," she prodded and grabbed the handle of her chair in growing anticipation.

In tense silence she watched as the men worked on the buckles of the wooden cage, before the King in the North opened the front, his other hand resting on his blade.

The other men remained close as a shrieking creature hopped out of the cage. It pulled on the chain bound around its neck, filling the silence with an ever rattling noise.

The shrieking cries sent a shiver down her spine while she tried to make sense of the spectacle in front of her.

She blinked once, then twice, but nothing changed the truth. The creature in front of her was undeniably human, but the waxen complexion and the sweet smell of death made her wrinkle her nose.

Suddenly, the smell of the hundred crucified children came back to her, a gagging reflex taking hold of her.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, blocking out the tense feelings surging through her.

"We call these these creatures wights," the King in the North explained, taking the chain from Lady Val's hands."As I said...the White Walkers or Others can raise dead men...he is one of them and there are hundred thousands of them lurking beyond the Wall."

She shuddered, from the tip of her head down to her toes.

She knew dark magic and paid witness to the cruelty of slavery, but the sight of this creature frightened her down to the marrow of her bones.

"Is there a way to kill them?" she asked, her breathe coming in quick gasps."Why do you believe that I can help you?"

His smile lightened up when he heard her words. It was like soft sunshine bursting through a dull grey sky and made her heart skip a beat.

"The answer is quite simple, your Grace," he replied and stepped closer. Her Dothraki guards reacted quickly, but when she winked her hand they remained in place."Dragonfire and dragonglass can kill them...we also call it obsidian and it can be harvested here on Dragonstone. That is why I came here, your Grace. To prepare for the true war."

The creature started to shriek again and Daenerys tried to keep still. It was hard to look at it.

"Give me a bit of time to process this revelation," she replied, her gaze flickering to Tyrion and then back to the King in the North, before shifting her attention to Missandei, who looked equally unsettled."We will speak during supper. Missandei will make sure that you are all settled."

The King in the North lowered his head in acceptance."Of course, your Grace."

...

 **As always, thank you for the reviews.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Daenerys**

"What do you think about this dead man?" Daenerys asked her Hand, who lounged on his seat and continued to twirl his golden cup like a toy.

"I think Jon Snow called the dead man a wight," Tyrion corrected and graced her with an understanding smile."But I understand your agitation, your Grace. I too want to help Jon Snow, but before we can think about fighting dead men we need to defeat my sister."

"I agree," she replied and turned around, before smoothing her hand over the surface of the painted table. Before her spread Westeros, the land Viserys used to call their home. Now she is finally here and her supposed home is split by war and turmoil. The Westerlands, the Riverlands and the Stormlands are still in the hands of the Lannister Queen. The Reach is split. The Ironborn are her allies, but the matter of independence is still a moot point. Dorne is only her ally because Princess Arianne is longing for revenge and the King in the North refuses to bend the knee."Yet I can't forget the sight of this creature…"

Tyrion nodded and pushed the cup aside.

"It is understandable that you are rattled, but this war will soon be over."

She sighed and straightened herself.

"But that does not help to solve my dilemma. You heard the King in the North…he wants negotiations."

Tyrion chuckled.

"Well, then I suggest we negotiate."

"Very well," she agreed hesitatingly and touched the flagon of wine placed on the table before her."How can I convince him to bend the knee?"

"Two options come to my mind," Tyrion replied." The first one is marriage and the second one is to find an agreement that serves both sides."

"Marriage?" she asked, though the topic came up before. Both Lady Olenna and Princess Arianne made such allusions."I don't know…"

Tyrion asked of her to consider it, but her last marriage was a farce and she felt no longing for another marriage, at least for now. Then there is the fact that both matches bring complications with hem. Willas Tyrell is the last remaining heir of House Tyrells and Daenerys would never be able to give him an heir. Trystane Martell would be less problematic, but the boy his half a child and Dorne is not as powerful as the other kingdoms. That only leaves the King in the North or the sickly Lord of the Vale.

"I am not trying to force you into a marriage, your Grace," Lord Tyrion added more softly."But it would solve our problem. If you marry him he can remain King and there is no need to bend the knee."

"I know that," she said and turned around, her flickering to the distant stormy sky."He seems pleasant enough, but that is not the reason I am hesitant…I can't have children. My last husband may have shared my bed, but it was only done out of a sense of formality. He never spoke of children…what he wanted was my crown."

"Exactly," Tyrion said and hopped from his chair, before coming to stand next to her."Jon Snow is the King Regent of the North…that means his brother will be his heir. His sister Sansa is another possible heir. I also doubt Jon Snow can be compared to your late husband. He lacks ambitions and it is clear that he only cares about fighting these White Walkers."

Tyrion's words made sense, but she remained hesitant. She swore to herself that she would consider the matter of marriage thoroughly before coming to a final decision.

"I will consider it," she agreed at last."But first I want get to know him. You also mentioned another option…"

"Indeed, your Grace," Tyrion said."My suggestion is to give him something he wants. He mentioned this dragonglass and that it is part of the reason he came here…I suggest addressing the topic during supper."

Daenerys frowned.

"I doubt he will bend the knee for a bit of dragonglass…," she trailed off.

"Of course not, but it would be a step in the right direction. Show him that you are prepared to help him, but make clear to him that we won't be able to commit our armies to his cause until Cersei is defeated."

…

 **Jon**

"You should take Ghost with you," Val remarked from her seat next to the window."The dwarf tried to intimidate us with these dragons. Ghost will do the same."

Jon laughed and made his way over to his loyal beast, sprawled on the colourful Myrish carpet beneath Val's chair.

"Did you hear that?" He asked the wolf."Val thinks you are more fearsome than the Queen's dragons."

"Lady Val speaks true," Ser Davos remarked amusedly and eyed the tapestries hanging on the wall. It displayed three dragon riders seated on massive dragons."Women like puppies."

"Ghost is no puppy," Jon countered and stroked Ghost's ear."He is a direwolf."

His loyal beast yawned and put his head on his crossed pawns. The other Daenerys liked Ghost, but then she used to call her three dragons "her children". She had a strange love for fearsome beasts.

"What do you think?" he asked his wolf, but then he heard the familiar swish of dragon wings. Moving towards the painted glass windows he spotted Viserion circling above the tower. Rhaegal was not far, spreading his massive wings as he soared through the air.

In his last incarnation Jon had been Rhaegal's rider for barely more than a year, though he was extremely hesitant. The revelation of his parentage hurt him deeply and to think of himself as a Targaryen was almost impossible to him in the past. Now he made his peace with the past, but he doubted this Daenerys would appreciate it if he mounted one of her dragons.

It would bring up the question of his parentage, a topic he wanted to avoid for now. Daenerys has been toiling to gain the Iron Throne for years and he doubted she would believe him without proper proof. In his last incarnation it was Bran who told them the truth, but his brother is far away.

"Your Grace…," Ser Davos called out to him and brought him back to the present.

"Jon," he corrected the Onion Knight."Please call me Jon while we are alone. The same goes for you, Val."

She gave him a knowing smile and inspected the vase placed on the table in front of her. It was made out of dark glass and showed several snarling dragon heads winding around each other.

"Do you think even the privy is decorated with dragonheads?" she asked teasingly.

"I hope not," he replied and earned himself a chuckle."I think the three living dragons outside are enough."

"Indeed," Ser Davos agreed and brushed the dust from his cloak. Jon did the same and turned to look at Ghost.

"Well, we shouldn't let the Queen wait."

Yet Ghost ignored him and rolled to the side, making clear to him that he is more interested in sleeping.

Jon sighed, but knew a sure way to convince Ghost.

"There will be plenty of food for you, boy."

The prospect of food worked like magic and a moment later Ghost was at his side, sniffling at his hand.

"Not there," Jon chided, but couldn't help but laugh."Now, come along."

…

"Please come along," Missandei, Daenerys' ever loyal servant led them to a spacious solar. It was a dark room, lightened by chandeliers made of diamonds and formed into dragon heads. At the walls he found more depictions of dragons. Jon was always fond of Targaryen history, but he could barely recount more than a handful dragon names.

"We are re-decorating," Daenerys explained, a proud smile curling on her lips."We found the paintings under a heap of dust and old books. It seems Stannis Baratheon wasn't very dedicated in destroying my family's legacy. I also heard your father called his brother King Robert a friend…"

Jon swallowed hard. Robert Baratheon was always a difficult topic for Daenerys. Jon wasn't very impressed by the King when he met him in Winterfell, but he doubted Lord Stark would have called him a friend if he was rotten to the core.

"I met him only once, your Grace. My father called him his friend, but that didn't keep his false son from murdering him," Jon replied vaguely and took the seat opposite of the Queen. Val took a seat to his right and Ser Davos took a seat to his left. Ghost simply ignored all formality and put his head on the table, searching for the promised food.

Tyrion frowned when he noticed Ghost, but then the wolf lifted his head and started lick the dwarf's hand.

Daenerys smiled, her purple eyes alight with curiosity.

"It seems you two know each other," Daenerys remarked and earned herself a knowing smile from Lord Tyrion.

"Ghost…his name his Ghost, your Grace," the dwarf explained and inclined his head to look at Jon. Then he grinned almost mischievously."Do you remember how I pissed from the Wall?"

Jon nodded his head in agreement while Daenerys looked perplexed by the sudden change of topic.

"The Lord Commander and Ser Aliser gave you a hard time if I remember correctly, my Lord."

"Ah, yes," Tyrion said and lifted his jade cup, before bringing it to his lips."The Old Bear and Ser Aliser glowered more than you. I heard the Old Bear died, but I assume Ser Alliser is still gracing the Wall with his presence?"

"He is dead," Jon answered quickly while the servants served the first course, a pumpkin soup garnished with vegetable, followed by the wine."He kill…he tried to kill me and I hanged him. The wight I showed you was another traitor."

Daenerys swallowed hard, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Well, at least something good came from their betrayal," she added and led the spoon to her mouth. Then she smiled almost mischievously."Or you wouldn't have been able to present me with this gruesome gift of yours, your Grace."

Jon laughed and felt the tension leave his body. Seeing her smile was like a gift to him, because knew from experience that it means she is comfortable in his presence. The Daenerys he knew kept her smiles for people she trusted and her threats for people she perceived as her enemies.

"I think gift is the wrong word for it," Jon countered jestingly and broke the bread, before dipping it into the soup."And I apologize for my bunt approach, but I don't have much time to waste. I am also fighting a war."

"Another thing we have in common," Daenerys stated and shifted her attention to Val, who had already finished her meal. "It seems the soup is to your taste, Lady Val. I don't know much about the culture of the Free Folk…But I suppose you don't get fresh vegetables beyond the Wall?"

"Vegetables," Val repeated and pondered the Queen's question, before giving her answer."I don't know what that means, but we of the Free Folk are good hunters. We eat meat and wild roots from the frozen earth."

Other Ladies would have frowned, but Daenerys chuckled, the bell in her hair ringing softly with every movement of her head.

"That sounds more pleasant than fermented milk and bloody horse hearts," she said and took a sip form her golden cup.

"A bloody horse heart?" Val asked and wrinkled her nose in disgust."Sounds unpleasant. I prefer my food roasted."

Daenerys chuckled again.

"Like my dragons," she agreed, before placing her cup back on the table. Then she smiled again and broached a more serious topic.

"And these White Walkers…they have been hunting your people?"

"Hunting?" Val asked, her voice tinged with bitterness."They wanted to make us part of their army of the dead. Without Jon my people would have all died."

Daenerys nodded her head in understanding and handed her empty bowl to the servant girl moving around the table.

"And that is all they care about?" Daenerys asked, her purple gaze flickering from Val to Jon."To turn people into dead men?"

"Someone I knew used to call them the servants of the Great Other," Ser Davos added."Though I doubt that answers your question. Whatever reasons these creatures have…I doubt they will stop."

"The Great Other?" Tyrion asked and wrinkled his brows in concentration. „I heard that before…in Volantis. The worshippers of R'hllor call this Great Other the enemy of their god. That is all I remember."

Jon remained silent, debating with himself if he should reveal the little knowledge he was able to gain through Bran before his death in the Battle for Winterfell.

"I heard that the White Walkers were created by the Children of the Forest to serve as weapon against the First men."

"Children of the Forest?" Lord Tyrion asked and laughed."I saw the wight, but Children of the Forest…that sounds utterly mad."

"I thought the same," Ser Davos remarked and stroked his beard." But if the White Walkers exist it is just as likely that the Children of the Forest exist."

"I have never seen these Children of the Forest," Val added, meeting Daenerys' gaze."But my people know many stories about them. There is always a hint of truth to be found in such tales…at least that is what Mance told me."

"Mance?" Daenerys asked, her eyes shining with curiosity."Your husband?"

"Oh, no," Val said and laughed."Mance was my sister's husband. She died in childbed."

"Oh," Daenerys whispered and paled visibly. "I didn't mean…"

"No need for an apology," Val assured her quickly."I am not insulted."

The rest of the supper passed quickly while Daenerys continued to pepper them with questions. She asked Ser Davos about his time as a smuggler and subtle questions about King Stannis, before shifting her attention back to Jon and Val. What followed were more questions about the North, the Wall and the Night's Watch.

Val and Ser Davos retired soon after the meal, which left only Jon, Daenerys and Tyrion.

To start off their negotiations Tyrion decided to open another bottle of wine.

"Arbor Gold," the dwarf explained happily and filled his cup to the brim. Jon frowned, already feeling the effects of the wine."The perfect way to start our negotiations."

Jon nodded his head in understanding while Tyrion filled first his and then Daenerys' cup, before returning to the topic at hand.

"Well, let's begin!"

Jon nodded his head and left his cup untouched.

"There is not really much to say about my position in this matter. It is not that I am particularly infatuated with my position as King Regent, but my Lords suffered under the last rulers. It is nothing personal…I know that you are not your father, but I was _named_ King in the North and my Lords can _unnamed_ me. I am their King because they trust me to represent their interests."

Daenerys' smile vanished instantly, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"You said that you need my armies and my dragons to defeat the White Walkers," she countered." What more could I offer your Lords to win their trust?"

 _She got me_ , he thought and took a sip from the wine.

"I doubt my word alone would be enough to convince them," he admitted and tapped his fingers on the table."That is why I want to invite you to Winterfell, your Grace. Speak to the Lords of the North and show them that you are not your father's daughter. "

Her eyes widened and she exchanged a quick look with Lord Tyrion.

"I understand what you are trying to say, but I am fighting a war," she explained."I can't just travel to Winterfell."

"I know," he assured her."And I don't expect an immediate answer, but I could be of help to you in the meantime."

"Go on…" she prodded softly.

"The Vale lords are our allies and my sister's Uncle is the rightful Lord of the Riverlands. Lord Royce and Ser Brynden Tully are currently on a mission to retake the Riverlands from the Frey Lords. I could ask Ser Brynden to join the Riverlords to your cause once Riverrun is retaken. He is Lord Hoster Tully's brother, but I think he will not refuse an opportunity to take revenge against the Lannisters. Besides, there are still Targaryen loyalists residing in the Riverlands, though I admit convincing Ser Brynden and Lord Edmure will not be easy."

"I assume they are as stubborn as the Lords of the North?" she asked."As I said…I will think about your proposal. In the meantime you have my hospitality and you may mine this dragonglass. If you need men, I am willing to provide them to you."

"I have men," he answered and couldn't help but to smile. "But additional help is always appreciated."

"There is another matter I wanted to address," he added and cleared his throat. "During my time in the Night's Watch I made the acquaintance of a certain Aemon Targaryen…your Grand-Uncle if I am correct…," explained, but stopped when he saw her flabbergasted face.

"Aemon Targaryen," she repeated in a trembling voice and grabbed the table, turning her knuckles snow white. Then she lifted her head and searched his face."I didn't even know…"

"That he existed?" Jon asked and felt the sudden urge to squeeze her hand, to hold her…

"Of course!" Tyrion exclaimed."I completely forgot about him…I have to ask your forgiveness, Grace."

"No need," she assured Tyrion, her gaze still fixed at Jon."Tell me about him and more importantly…Is he well?"

The question made his blood freeze, but she deserved to know the truth, no matter how unpleasant.

"He is dead, your Grace," he replied quietly and forced the words over his lips. She shuddered and bit her lips, tears shining in her eyes.

"I see," she said and grew utterly silent.

"I cannot revive him, your Grace," Jon added, trying to find the right words to comfort her."But he spoke about you and wanted to meet you. I don't know if it is much of a consolation to you, but he died in his sleep."

"A seldom death in our cruel world," Tyrion remarked quietly."I met him too. He was a witty man and highly respected among his peers. I am sure he would have liked you."

"There is more, your Grace," Jon added hesitatingly."When I last visited Castle Black I collected his correspondence and some of his books. Nothing that concerns you personally, but I am sure he would want you to have it…," he continued, but was promptly cut off.

"Why?" she demanded to know, her face flushed and her voice laced with mistrust."Why are you doing this? What is your motive?"

"No deeper motive," Jon assured her as calmly as possible, but she was obviously not satisfied with his answer.

 _I am a fool_ , he thought. _She probably thinks I am trying to buy her trust._

He exhaled deeply and ruffled his hair in frustration. Then he graced her with a smile.

"Your Grand-Uncle was a good friend of mine and he saved my life. The previously mentioned Ser Alliser and another man named Janos Slynt wanted to take my head, but your Grand-Uncle believed me. Without him I wouldn't be here."

Then he rose to his feet and whistled. Quickly his direwolf trailed through the room to join his side.

"I will leave you know, your Grace," he added awkwardly." I will send Ser Davos to hand over your Grand-Uncle's belongings."

She looked utterly shaken, her face paler than candlewax.

Finally, she nodded her head and spoke.

"Of course," she stuttered, ringing with her composure."You are surely exhausted from the long travel. We will speak soon."

…

 **As always, thank you for the reviews.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Arya**

"How did the Blackfish get himself an army of Vale Knights?" Walder Frey asked, his weasel-like face narrowed in concentration. Arya or Mira was holding the flagon of wine while the Lord of the Twins continued slashing his half-empty goblet on the wooden table before him. Again and again the wood rattled and the sweet red liquid splashed over the dusty surface.

"I don't know, father," one of his many sons answered. Arya had been staying her for three moons, but she was still unable to recall the names of Walder Freys' numerous children. Their names were almost impossible to remember, because they all looked the same to her.

"I don't know! I don't know!" Walder Frey repeated angrily and buried his fork in the meat on his plate."That's all you can tell me…shameful I call it. Sometimes I wonder how my seed could bring forth such brainless cunts like you two."

"We don't have enough information, but the rumours indicate that the Vale Lords pledged themselves to Jon Snow, the new King in the North. It is quite possible that the Blackfish is acting on his will…at least that is my estimation of the situation."

Walder Frey frowned and put the goblet down, before starting to clap into his hands.

"Well done!" he mocked his son."Now tell me how we are going to keep these Vale knights off our backs?"

"Edmure Tully sits in our dungeon," the smarter son replied.

"Exactly," the old man grumbled and rubbed his hands together."We will give the Blackfish the head of his nephew if he dares to attack us. We don't have need of him now that Roslin bore him a son."

Arya gritted her teeth and wanted to do nothing more than to bury Needle deep in the old man's back. She had often dreamed of killing him and the moment was finally here.

 _Tonight_ , she thought and continued to brush the wine from the table while Walder Fray and his sons continued their discussion.

Arya's original plan was vastly different from her current one. She planned to kill Walder Frey and take his head to lure all of the Frey Lords to a feast. Then she meant to poison them, but the news of her Grand-Uncle destroyed her plans.

She had to improvise, but that was something she trained for.

 _Calm as a river_ , she thought and graced the old man with a seductive smile. She took the face of a beautiful whore and the old Lord Walder Frey was not he first one to turn his head for her.

The other Frey Lords made similar advances, but she was capable enough to evade their bed. A bit of sleeping powder in their wine and it was easy to slip away. The old Arya would have frowned about such seductive smiles, but for now she was Mira, a poor servant girl.

"And how long until the Blackfish comes knocking at our doors?" the old man demanded to know from his sons.

"The outriders say that he is a days' ride away," the smarter son replied while the foolish one continued to bob his head like dog."We should act quickly, father."

"Then do it and don't stand here like two bumbling fools!" Walder Frey grumbled at his sons."I am an old man. My sons ought to know how to take care of such business. Leave now, I want to eat my supper in peace."

"Aye," they replied in unison and both sons left the room. It would be so easy to take the knife to cut open his throat, but it would take days to prepare the face. No, she needed to act quickly if she wanted to be of help to her Grand-Uncle.

"What a bunch of useless cunts!" the old Lord cursed and brought his almost empty goblet to his lips.

"I think you need more wine, M'Lord," she remarked softly. When she was in Braavos the Kindly Man made her train with whores and courtesans to learn how to speak and act like one of them. One of them, a certain Mistress Feather had always told her that a woman ought to speak as soft as a feather. Arya had found that pretty silly, but she soon realized that the Mistress' advice was not without merit, for old Walder Frey grinned like a fool.

"Ah, you are the pretty one from the feast, aren't you?" he asked and patted her ass. She felt a rush of disgust washing over her, but she had enough self-control to hide her feelings.

 _I am Mira,_ she told herself and smiled sweetly. _I am Mira, a poor servant girl._

"I have not forgotten, M'Lord," she cooed and felt his wrinkled hand wander up to her bodice."You should come and visit me…I could use a little bit distraction before Blackfish comes knocking at my door."

"It would be my pleasure, M'Lord," she replied and lowered her head in understanding.

The old man laughed and patted her ass again.

"Well, if you are so hasty…come tonight."

Arya smiled sweetly and dipped her head as she stepped backwards to move out of the door.

Once she had the door closed behind her she brushed the smile from her lips and rushed back to the kitchen.

Martha, one of the kitchen maids was peeling the potatoes for the supper while her daughter Lily was regaling her with one of her latest conquests. Larra, the girl she shared her bunk with told her that she had almost half the castle.

"There you are, girl!" Martha complained."What took you so long?"

"M'Lord wanted more wine," she replied vaguely, but earned herself a slap over the head.

"Stop lying to me…I know what that means," she grumbled and jerked her head to the pots placed at the table."Now go…the hostages need feeding. You promised to do Maura's work."

"Aye, Mistress!" she confirmed and started to pick up the pots filled with the leftovers from the last few weeks.

The smell was rotten, but most of the hostages were happy to get fed at all. When Arya first laid eyes on them she didn't even recognize the men who used to sit on her father's high table. The Greatjon, once a mighty man, had looked like a walking skeleton.

Her Uncle Edmure had looked even worse and his constant coughing concerned her.

Even now she heard it as she stepped into the dark dungeon.

The guards whistled after her like always, but she didn't pay them much heed as she made her way to the first cage.

"What is it tonight?" the Greatjon asked, his voice rumbling with anger as he leaned against the bars of his cage."Old Walder's shit?"

"Leftovers," Arya replied and showed her true face to her father's bannerman. It felt like slipping off her skin, but also gave her an incredible feeling of freedom.

She smiled openly and moved the bowl through the small opening at the bottom of the cell.

"I assume you miss the honeyed-chicken. I recall my My Lord Father always ordered it when you came to visit Winterfell, My Lord."

The Greatjon's eyes widened in shock and the grown man in front of her started to tremble.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice full of disbelief.

"That you were always the loudest among my father's bannermen, my Lord."

The man pressed his head against the bars, his eyes even wider as he regarded her closely.

"It can't be…!" he muttered, but Arya only continued to smile and leaned closer.

"You are not dreaming, my Lord. This nightmare will soon be over and then we will put Walder Frey's head on a pike. The North Remembers, my Lord. The North Remembers."

"How?" he asked."How?"

"The Blackfish will soon be knocking at Walder Frey's door. They say he is only a days' ride away. Walder Frey plans to present Uncle Edmure's head to the Blackfish. You need to act soon…best would be at dawn."

"First I need to get out of that cage, my Lady," the Greatjon replied, his dirty fingers touching her brown hair. A smile washed over his lips, tears shining in her eyes.

"All you need is part of your supper, my Lord," she replied and leaned closer, the man's warm breath tickling her skin."There are weapons in the nearby armoury."

"I thank you, my Lady," he whispered. „But you need to leave. This is no place for you."

"Don't fret about me, my Lord," she replied calmly as a river. „I know what I am doing. I will leave you now. Enjoy your supper. Inside you will find all you need."

Afterwards she went to feed the rest of the hostages, before returning to her chambers. She put on a finer dress with wider sleeves to hide Needle.

She carefully brushed her hair and donned her mask, before heading off to meet old Walder Frey.

"There you are, lass!" he said and grinned from one ear to the other.

Strangely, she felt no hint of fear as she worked the bindings of her chemise, a bright smile curling on her lips. She felt a hint of excitement wash over her. Truly, the greatest pleasure was to know that the old man felt safe.

 _Like my brother when he ate from your bread and salt,_ she thought and moved towards the bed. The feeling of her blade hidden in her sleeve gave her the last push of courage she needed.

 _Fear cut deeper than swords_ , she repeated her prayer and crawled on top of the old man. He received no sweet caress. Instead she slipped Needle out of her sleeve and plunged her blade deep into his guts.

The old man gasped in pain, but Arya continued to twist the blade. He struggled like a fish out the water and she enjoyed every moment of it.

Then she leaned down and removed her face.

"Look at my eyes!" she whispered, her hand resting on Needle."Wolf's eyes my Lady mother used to call them. You thought you butchered all of the Starks, but you were wrong. That was your mistake…you should have ripped them all out root and stem," she continued and twisted the blade a little more. Blood was pooling around her as he continued to struggle, before she decided to end it.

"Leave one wolf alive and the sheep are never safe!" she muttered, before pulling the blade free, blood splattering over her dress and the bed.

Calmly, she washed herself and slipped out of the door, making sure that nobody saw her. Then she blocked the door. She doubted anyone of his dim son's will dare to bother the old lord, least they earn his wrath.

Quietly she sipped through the corridors and went to retrieve the dress she hid hours ago. She quickly pulled it over her shoulders and waited in her chosen hiding place. Hours passed and as night came silence fell over the castle.

When dawn came, she sipped out of her hiding place and made her way to the dungeons.

Like planned the guards were horribly drunk, put that was part of her plan. Before seeking out Lord Walder Frey she brought them a flagon of wine she stole from the larder. It was one of the fine ones' and the fools devoured it greedily, thinking she wanted to get in their pants.

"Bless the gods!" the Greatjon gasped when she showed herself to him."What hour is it?"

"Long past the hour of the wolf, almost dawn," she whispered back."We need to hurry."

"Aye," the Greatjon replied and slipped the key into the locked, before pushing the door open."How many guards are there?"

"Not many…maybe eighty remain," she replied." Walder Frey had to deploy the majority of his men to the capital on the Kingslayer's order…that is what I heard."

"We are fifty men," the Greatjon replied and stroked his beard, his small grey eyes narrowed in concentration."Well, fuck this. Those Frey fuckers know nothing of fighting. We will show them."

"First we need to free the others," she reminded him."Then we can think of murdering Freys, My Lord."

The man laughed and patted her shoulder."Aye, you are really Ned's girl. You have your father's icy look, my Lady."

Confusion and wonder showed on the faces of the other hostages as they opened the doors. Thousands of questions followed, but the Greatjon made it quick and simple.

We are free and we need to kill the Freys Lords.

 _Not the woman_ , she had told them and had earned herself another "Aye, you are Ned's girl."

Lord Edmure was the last one to be freed and they had to kill two guards before they were even able to get to him.

"Lord Umber!" her Uncle gasped."Am I dreaming?"

"The time to be idle is over," the Greatjon muttered and pushed the door open."Your Grand-Uncle is marching for the Twins and we need to open the gates for him. I hope you are up to kill a bunch of Freys along the way, My Lord?"

Her Uncle coughed and pulled himself to his feet. He looked sickly, but the smile crossing his lips told her that he was prepared to fight.

"It would be my pleasure."

…

 **Daenerys**

The first sunbeams were piercing through the thick clouds as she made her way along the beach, followed by her Dothraki guards.

Even from afar she spotted Val. She was devoid of her pelt, her face dirty and her hair dishevelled.

She dipped her head in greeting, a hesitant smile crossing her lips as she bridged the distance, leaving the group of men stacking small piece of stone over each other.

Daenerys had no knowledge about mining, but she supposed this dragonglass can won from these stacked stones.

Then she heard the familiar song of her children, joyfully flying circles above her head. Drogon was the biggest of her dragons, but Rhaegal and Viserion were catching up with their brother now that they regained their freedom.

It made her heart clench to think that she imprisoned them, but that was now a matter of the past.

 _You are now free_ , she whispered and shifted her attention to Val, stamping through the sand.

"Lady Val!" Daenerys replied and graced he with a smile."I can see that you are still busy. Has the King in the North found what he was searching for?"

"We are still busy," she replied bluntly as ever, her grey eyes darting to one of her Bloodriders, before flickering back to her.

It was not the first time that she noticed her watching them …

"I will call four King Crow if it pleases you?"

"It would please me," she replied and graced Val with another smile.

She received a quiet nod from Val, before she disappeared in the opening of the tunnel. Daenerys continued to listen to the sound of the waves and the cool breeze touching her cheeks.

Dragonstone was so unlike Essos, but not in an unpleasant way. If she had her way she would stay here and make this her permanent home.

Not King's Landing, the Red Keep or any other palace her family once owned. And yet she wants to rule, to regain the crown once worn by her ancestors.

Her father was an unworthy King, but she swore to herself that she would prove to be a better ruler…

"Your Grace!" the King in the North greeted her along the way. Behind him followed Ser Davos and Lady Val."What brings you here?"

His voice felt like a warm breeze tickling her skin, but she quickly brushed the feeling away.

She had told Tyrion that she intends get to know him, but she also felt afraid. Afraid of another betrayal.

Yet she couldn't help but to smile when he met her gaze. The correspondence of her Uncle may contain nothing personal, but it gave her great comfort to read his notes. She owed him for that.

"To inspect your progress," she replied instead and was graced with an honest smile.

His was not a face made for smiling and yet the smile helped to soften the sharp edges into a handsome face.

"What I mean to say…I would like to see this dragonglass you spoke of," she explained further and pursed her lips.

"Of course," he replied, his eyes darting to the Dothraki guards."But there is not much room…" he trailed off.

She nodded her head in understanding and turned back to her guards.

"You may leave…I am fine," she told them, before shifting her attention back to the King in the North.

They did as she bid them and then she made her way down the steps to join the King in the North, Ser Davos and Val.

"You will need that, your Grace," the elderly knight said and handed her a burning torch.

"You have my thanks, Ser Davos," she replied politely and followed after the King in the North.

It took only the blink of a moment before the darkness swallowed her up, the flickering torchlight the only beacon of light in the ever-shifting darkness.

The King in the North gave her a quick backwards glance as they moved along a long narrow passage.

The darkness grew thicker and thicker, the yellow flame of her torch dancing before her eyes. Again she noticed him staring at her, before abruptly averting his face after she inclined her head to meet his gaze.

"This way," he explained almost softly, his voice echoing back at her."We are nearly there."

They moved further down a snaking path, the ground beneath her feet uneven and slippery. She had to walk slowly and now and then the King in the North had to steady her.

It lasted only briefly, but every time he pulled his hand away as if she was a scorching flame.

"As I said before…that way," he reminded her, a heavy silence stretching between them as he waited for her to move.

"Of course," she replied quickly, the spell that had been cast on her washed away. She exhaled deeply, before following after him down a steep path until the tunnel opened into a larger, low-ceiled cave.

She noticed nothing of interest until the King in the North raised his torch. The light of the flame wafted off the wall and made it glitter like diamonds spread on a smoky surface of ink.

The sight made her gasp, embarrassment surging through her. She blushed about her girlish expression, which coaxed a laugh of amusement from the King in the North.

His laughter was warm and comforting, but didn't last long. Soon he was patting her arm, turning her around as if she was some aimless child that lost it's way.

"There is more," he added softly, his warm breath tickling her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

"There!" he said and pointed at the ceiling.

She lifted her head and stared in awe at paintings displayed on the wall. Childish paintings, faded through the passage of time.

"Who made these?" she asked and moved closer towards the wall, smoothing her fingers over the rough stone surface.

"The Children of the Forest," The King in the North replied, his voice soothing like a lullaby.

"When?" was all she brought over her lips, her breath quickening as he moved closer.

"A long time ago…," he answered and another pulled on her arm and soon she was facing the other side of the cave.

"You asked me what the enemy looks like," he whispered and pointed his torch at the wall."There they are…the enemy."

Daenerys bit her lips as she regarded the strange human-like creatures armed with sharp weapons.

She tried to imagine them like Val described them to her. Creatures wrought from ice, their eyes bright like two twin stars of fost.

The thought made her shudder.

"And you think my dragons can defeat them?"

A moment of silence followed that seemed to stretch on forever.

"Dragonfire can kill wights, but the White Walkers…they can only be killed through dragonglass and Valyrian Steel."

"Valyrian Steel?" she asked and recalled Viserys' stories about the famous swords once wielded by her ancestors."How did you find out?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I found out through pure coincidence, but I once read that Valyrian Steel was forged in dragon fire…maybe that is why they are vulnerable to it. Dragons are fire made flesh."

The way he said it sounded familiar, as if told her that before.

"Indeed, but nobody knows what else is needed to forge Valyrian Steel," she replied as he moved back to the entrance of the cave.

When she didn't follow he stopped half the way, his pale face cast in shifting shadows.

The memory hit her like thunder, quick and without mercy. She trembled and steadied herself against the nearby wall.

"Are you well?" the King in the North asked and was quickly at her side, his arms coming around her to keep her upright.

"It is so dark," she whispered, a panic taking hold of her."I need light."

"Of course," he whispered and took her torch, before leading her along."It is not far."

A trembling laugh escaped her in that moment of vulnerability.

"A brave Queen I am…afraid of the dark," she muttered."Why aren't you laughing?"

"We are all afraid of something," he replied, his voice echoing along the narrow pathway."My father used to say that you can only brave in moments of fear."

"Your father was wise," she complimented him. _And mine a madman._

"Maybe," he replied and sounded uncomfortable."Some called him an honourable fool."

 _Still better than a madman_ , she thought but kept those thoughts to herself.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked instead, lacking a better question.

Another moment of silence followed, his grip tightening on her arm.

"That the sun won't rise in the morning," he replied, his voice laced with an unknown pain.

She was confused by his answer, but she felt the urge to comfort him, to give him a kind word…

"Another thing we have in common…we don't like the darkness," she replied."It is a blessing that I have dragons."

"Indeed," he said and chuckled lightly."Your dragons are a true blessing."

The rest of the way was breached in conformable silence. When she stepped outside she had to narrow her eyes against the blinding light, but she felt relief washing over her when she was able to leave the darkness behind her.

She exhaled deeply and took comfort in the smell of the sea, the sound of the dragon wings in the wind…

"Your Grace!" a familiar voice called out to her. She blinked once, then twice, before she found Lord Tyrion Lannister waddling through the sand.

She straightened herself and brushed the dirt from her cloak. She needed to act a Queen and slipped on her mask.

"Are there news?"

The small lord nodded his head in confirmation.

"Lord Varys has returned and Lady Olenna sent word. We should go inside and speak."

"Of course," she replied quickly and meant to follow, but then she stopped herself and turned back to the King in the North.

"You should join us," she offered, meeting his gaze.

He looked slightly surprised, but lowered his head in acceptance.

"I would be honoured."

…

 **As always, thank you for the reviews. The next chapter will take a bit longer, because I will be quite busy.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Jon**

"Tell us," Daenerys prodded, her purple eyes fixed on Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys."Are there good news?"

"Good news and bad news," Lord Tyrion replied vaguely and wanted to grab for the bottle of wine, but Daenerys' sharp look made him stop.

 _I need a sober Hand,_ her eyes told Tyrion and he surprisingly he obeyed.

"First the bad news," Daenerys demanded, her voice taking a darker hue. The Queen's voice Jon used to dub it and never failed to annoy the Daenerys he knew.

Tyrion exhaled deeply and leaned over the painted table, his hand touching the ships placed on Blackwater Bay.

"It seems Lady Greyjoy's fleet was surprised…" Tyrion explained vaguely and picked the ship from the table.

"Surprised?" Daenerys asked and raised an eyebrow. „By whom?"

"Her Uncle…Euron Greyjoy," Tyrion explained. „It seems a considerable amount of the Greyjoy fleet was damaged…and Lady Greyjoy was taken captive."

"How?" Daenerys demanded to know. „How was Euron Greyjoy able to ambush our fleet? I doubt he knew our plans…"

"The answer is quite simple, your Grace," Lord Varys added an uncomfortable expression washing over his face."It seems we harboured a traitor amongst our midst who sold our secrets to the enemy…I fear Aurane Waters betrayed us."

Daenerys' face went bank, all colour draining out of her face.

"What?"

Aurane Waters was a familiar name to him, but Daenerys never told him about his supposed treachery, which makes him assume that she either didn't share her knowledge with him or that she didn't find out about it in the past.

"It seems so," Lord Tyrion added gently and patted a figurine representing the Dornish troops ferried the Greyjoy Fleet had ferried to the Stormlands. Another figurine was placed near the Prince's Pass. „Truly, I didn't expect this kind of treachery…"

"What about you, Lord Varys?" Daenerys asked the bare-headed man, her voice brimming with subdued anger. „Why did your birds not sing?"

"I have to ask for your forgiveness, your Grace," the bare-headed man replied and lowered his head in an apologetic gesture. „But my long absence from Westeros helped to loosen my network. It will take time to rebuild it, but I will do my best."

"Good to hear, Lord Varys," Daenerys replied, before shifting her attention back to Tyrion. What about Ser Barristan?" Was he able to enter the Stormlands?"

"He was," Lord Tyrion confirmed with a smile and moved the second figurine army to Nightsong."He was able take Castle Nightsong. The castle was abandoned…House Caron was wiped out during the Battle of Blackwater. Ser Barristan is now waiting for your orders, your Grace."

"I heard you," Daenerys replied and tapped her fingers on the table. „But first I want to hear the good news."

Lord Tyrion nodded his head in understanding and patted one of the three figurines representing Lord Tyrell's men. The first one was placed on the roseroad and the second one was placed on the goldroad and a third one near Highgarden.

"It seems Randyll Tarly proved himself a traitor…Lady Olenna Tyrell confirmed it in her last raven," Tyrion Lannister said, his two-coloured eyes flickering from Jon to Daenerys.

The Queen sat grouched over the table, her purple eyes wandering over the raven scroll.

A moment of silence followed and Daenerys' head lifted to meet his gaze.

The intensity of it made him blush, though the thought himself beyond such boyish behaviour. Yet their time in the cave had woken old, long buried memories. When she smiled he saw the old Daenerys, but he knew this one didn't remember him or their time together…

"Indeed," she said and put the raven scroll back on the table. „It seems Lady Olenna found a way to uncover the man's plot against House Tyrell without alarming him."

Jon was stunned and gave Daenerys a searching look.

"How on earth did Lady Olenna achieve such a feat?"

"She sent Lord Rowan…he pretended to join Lord Tarly's cause and the treacherous Lord was singing like a bird. The Lady recommends making use of his ignorance…she thinks we should prepare a trap."

"Trap?" Jon asked, his gaze darting to Tyrion and then to Lord Varys. Jon knew him from his past incarnation, but he never bothered to speak to the man. He had died early in the war."What exactly was Lord Tarly planning? I only know that he was planning to betray Lord Tyrell, but I don't now the details."

"The plan is quite simple: It seems my brother Jaime plans to attack our men placed at the goldroad, before laying siege to Highgarden. Then Lord Tarly is supposed to offer his help to relieve Highgarden from the Lannister enemies only to take the city after the poor fools open the gates. A clever plan."

"Indeed," Daenerys agreed and leaned on her hands, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she continued to eye the maps before her. „I like Lady Olenna's idea. By allowing your brother to besiege Highgarden we can lure the Lannister troops out of their hiding and wipe them out. This will hopefully convince yours sister to give up. I am even prepared to renew my offer to her…She may retire to Casterly Rock and live there for the rest of her days. All I want is that she gives up her crown and surrenders King's Landing without bloodshed."

"Maybe," Tyrion replied weakly. He looked torn, but that was no surprise. The Tyrion he knew was never able to give up his brother. „Or it could have a different effect and destabilize her more. You know what that could mean for the city."

"I know," Daenerys confirmed and exhaled deeply."But I can't remain idle forever, waiting for your sister to come out of her hiding. No, I intend to follow Lady Olenna's suggestion. We will attack the Lannister army and put an end to this war…How many ships are left from Lady Greyjoy's Fleet? And more importantly…What is their current position?"

"Theon Greyjoy sailed back to Dorne and is awaiting your orders, your Grace. He frets about his sister."

"Understandable," Daenerys replied. „And I will gladly help retrieving her, but first we need to defeat the Lannister troops. That is why Theon Greyjoy needs to return here to Dragonstone. I have need of his remaining ships. Ser Barristan's men can continue taking the Stormlands. I doubt the Lannister Queen will have much time to bother about the Stormlands when she has to fight us in the Reach. Maybe Ser Barristan can even take Storm's End. What do you think, Lord Tyrion?"

Tyrion Lannister didn't move. Disapproval was written all over his face, but even Jon knew that there was no other way than to shed blood. While he wanted to avoid killing capable armies, he had no doubt that Cersei will continue with her war as long as she has an army at her disposal.

No, there is no other way.

"I am not sure," Lord Tyrion replied doubtfully, which earned him Daenerys' anger. „We could also attack Castle Hornhill and take Lord Tarly's family hostage. This way we can remove the threat. I doubt my brother will attack the Reach once he realizes that we know about his plans. Then we could continue with our old plan."

Yet it seems Daenerys didn't like the old plan all too much.

"One of my allies got captured and my other ally is expecting me to help them," she said, her purple gaze fixed on the small dwarf."How can you expect me to sit idle? Or are you perhaps not interested in fighting your family?"

Tyrion appeared like cold water had been poured over his head.

"Of course not, I am just trying to keep this war as bloodless as possible."

"Wars are never bloodless," Daenerys insisted.

Lord Tyrion opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it. Jon, who had been listening to their discussions, decided to make use of the moment to speak. He didn't know how much of a help he could be, but the Blackfish had informed him that he was able to take the Twins. That his sister Arya helped him was no surprise to him. It also means that the recapture of Riverrun is imminent.

"I am no friend of unnecessary bloodshed," Jon added politely. „But I agree with the Queen. Your sister will not give up without a fight. And it is quite likely that your sister's allies might consider joining our side if they pay witness to the dragons' strength. I am not saying that we should wipe out every single Lannister soldier, but most of them are humans. They will not continue to follow your sister if she sends them to their death."

Tyrion's eyes widened in surprise, but even Lord Varys made his agreement known.

"I am no friend of bloodshed, but I doubt peace will be reached without a fight. Better to end this war quickly rather than to draw it out, my Lord."

"Then it is decided," Daenerys replied."We will fight."

"Indeed," Jon agreed hesitatingly."But there is more. The Blackfish informed me that he was able to retake the Twins and will soon march to Riverrun. He is optimistic and thinks he will be able to retake Riverrun in the coming weeks. I could travel to Riverrun to speak with him and ask him to join his men to your cause or at least to cut off Jaime Lannister's way of retreat."

Surprise showed on Daenerys face.

"What about your Dragonglass? Who will oversee the mining?"

"Val will make sure that the men don't slack…this I can assure you, your Grace."

Daenerys chuckled.

"True," she said, her purple eyes lingering on him a minute too long, before shifting her attention back to Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys.

"You heard the King in the North. We will fight."

…

 **The Blackfish**

Seeing the Twins again filled him with an urge to burn down the entire castle. The thought pleased him greatly, though he knew that he would never able to rid himself off the pain Robb and Cat's death brought him.

Now he was here with an army at his back, given to him by Eddard Stark's bastard. He was thankful to the boy, but he was unable to show it. Whenever he looked at him he recalled the pain the boy's existence had brought to Cat.

How an honourable man like Eddard Stark was able to father a bastard was still a mystery to him, but then even the most austere men can lose themselves to beauty. Cat was convinced that Jon Snow was Ashara Dayne's son, but the Blackfish saw nothing of Lady Ashara Dayne in the boy's face. Whoever the boy's mother was, Eddard Stark must have loved her dearly if he allowed his bastard to grow up in his halls.

Not that it matters now. Cat and Robb are lost to him and the bastard rules the North. That he was able to get rid of the man who started it all angered him even more. It should have been his sword that cut off Petyr Baelish's head.

"My Lord," Lord Royce's voice snapped him out of his reverie. „Riders are coming…"

The Blackfish lifted his head and cast his gaze into the distance. Surprise washed over him as he spotted a group of riders, a white banner fluttering above their heads. The Blackfish counted twenty men, but the sight confused him.

"Is Walder Frey trying to fool us?" Jonos Bracken asked, his face narrowed in confusion.

"I am sure they will tell us," the Blackfish grumbled and urged his horse towards the approaching riders.

The Blackfish searched for the familiar weasel-like faces among the riders, but he found not a single Frey face.

"Gods!" one man's booming voice met them half-way. „It's really the Blackfish!"

The voice didn't suit the man. He was too thin, his shaggy beard streaked with grey.

This can't be the Greatjon, but his toothless grin confirmed the truth.

"My Lord Umber," he greeted the man."Am I going mad?"

"No, Grand-Uncle," a young woman remarked. She sat perched on a brown horse, was dressed in leather armour and had a sword fastened at her hip. „Your eyes are not betraying you. Walder Frey is dead. The hostages and Uncle Edmure are free."

"Grand-Uncle," he repeated, his eyes fixed at the girl. He didn't see it at first, but there was something familiar about her. The face and the eyes, they were reminiscent of the bastard King Jon Snow. „Who are you?"

"Are you blind?" the Greatjon asked and patted the girl's shoulder. „This is Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell. She freed us and together we killed the Frey fuckers. The castle is now yours and your nephew Edmure awaits you."

The Blackfish felt like slapped.

"Are you jesting?" he asked, his gaze darting back to Jonos Bracken and Yohn Royce. "Walder Frey is dead?"

The girl's grey eyes met his gaze.

"Aye," she confirmed. „I killed him myself. Robb and mother are avenged. Now come along…Uncle Edmure is waiting for you, Grand-Uncle."

"You killed him…," he repeated and tried to keep his composure. Then he swallowed hard and nodded his head. „Very well. I want to see my nephew."

Stepping inside this cursed castle woke old memories inside him and filled his nostrils with the smell of blood. He didn't want to think how many good men died for Walder Frey's treachery.

The sight of the Great Hall was enough to make him nauseous, but he kept his composure and followed the young girl, up to a gallery where they found a smaller room. It looked like a study, a warm fire popping in the hearth.

Edmure looked even worse than the Greatjon. His face was pale like a dead corpse, his red hair thin and lacking it's old brightness. He looked aged by at least ten years, streaks of grey showing in his hair and dark cringes underlining his eyes. The way he leaned against the armchair spoke of weakness and the coughing concerned him deeply.

"Uncle," this stranger called out to him, but then he smiled. It was his brother's smile. „I have to ask for your forgiveness…," he added and rose to his feet.

"Nonsense," the Blackfish replied involuntarily and met him half-way through the room. „I know that you were only trying to protect your wife and babe. We will save them…they are imprisoned in Riverrun…then you will be returned to your rightful position."

"Rightful position?" Edmure asked, his voice laced with bitterness. „My Lords will spit into my face…," he continued, but the Blackfish's slap made him stop.

"Horseshit!" he muttered. „You are the Lord of Riverrun and you have to get a hold of yourself. Your wife is waiting for you and your son."

"My Grand-Uncle speaks true," Arya Stark remarked from her position at the entrance of the room. No emotion showed on the girl's face, her unblinking grey eyes unnatural to behold. He saw the resemblance to her bastard brother and Eddard Stark, but there was something cold about the way she spoke and moved."Riverrun needs to be retaken."

"And how will we accomplish that?" the Blackfish found himself asking. This girl supposedly killed Walder Frey, but it was hard to believe how such a tiny girl was able to accomplish such a feat.

"I will infiltrate the castle and once the Frey Lord holding is dead the people will surely surrender the castle to you. If you are lucky, the sight of your arm will be enough to drive the people inside the castle to revolt against the Frey Lord."

"You will do no such thing," he told the girl, who continued to stare back at him with her unyielding gaze. „Your mother would hunt me beyond her grave if I allowed you to get harmed. He has been praying for your return every day until her untimely death. No, I will send you back to Winterfell. Your sister Sansa and your brother Rickon are waiting for you."

A hint of emotion showed on her face, but her gaze remained clear like the surface of a lake.

"I am no child," she told him plainly and bridged the distance, coming stand before him. „I will not sit around idly when I can be of help."

"Your brother Jon…I am sure he would agree with me," he countered and was stunned by the girl's sudden change. From one moment to the next her mask dropped and her eyes widened in shock. He saw tears glinting in her eyes and her hand caressed the sword fastened at her hip.

"Jon…he is alive," she stuttered. „I heard he died…"

The Blackfish shook his head and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"The last time I saw his Grace he was very much alive…he is now the King in the North," he explained through gritted teeth. It was still hard to admit, but it was true.

"He is the King!" Arya Stark gasped and suddenly she looked like a normal young girl.

Edmure appeared just as stunned. „You mentioned that Sansa and Rickon are alive…How did the bastard become a King?"

"His name is Jon!" Arya Stark seethed at Edmure. I don't care who is mother was, but he is my brother."

Edmure paled and lifted his hands in a gesture of appeasement.

"Forgive me," he said and lowered his head. „I didn't mean to insult your brother, but it is hard for me to believe that the Lords of the North would crown an oathbreaker King, especially when Ned's trueborn children are still alive."

"He was freed from his vows and Robb named him his successor," the Blackfish explained. „And I chose the wrong title. He is the acting King Regent for his brother Rickon Stark. He assured me that Rickon will be his heir."

"Who cares," Arya replied and graced him with the first honest smile. It was like warm sunshine bursting through the sky after a long day full of rain. „Why is he not here with you? Did he remain in Winterfell?"

"He travelled to Dragonstone to meet Daenerys Targaryen. She wants to take the Iron Throne from Cersei Lannister," the Blackfish explained and received a stunned look from his nephew.

"Cersei Lannister is Queen?" he asked, his blue eyes nearly dropping out of his head. „Has the world turned mad?"

"No, but Cersei," Arya Stark replied. „They say she burned the Sept of Baelor and with it half the court. She was always cruel, but it seems the years turned her into the Second Mad Queen."

"Indeed," the Blackfish agreed. „And now we have to choose between a madwoman and the daughter of a madman. Your brother wants to win her allegiance to fight against an army of dead men…and these White Walkers."

"White Walkers? Dead men? A Lannister Queen?" Edmure muttered and buried his head in the palm of his hand. „Does this nightmare never end?"

"Aye," Arya Stark confirmed. „Once Cersei dies this war will end. I don't know this Dragon Queen, but if Jon trusts her then I am prepared to trust her as well. You need to write to Dragonstone. Jon needs to know about our success and then we can move on to Riverrun," she continued and turned around to grace Edmure with a smile. „I will be pleased to meet your wife and son."

A smile softened Edmure's face and for a brief moment he looked like his old self.

"I will be pleased to meet them too."

…


	14. Chapter 14

**Arya**

Arya's heart threatened to jump out of her chest as she spotted the banner of House Stark fluttering above the column of approaching riders. The sight of the white wolf running next to the column of riders confirmed what she already knew. Jon was returning to her.

Tears burned in her eyes as she smoothed her hand over her small blade gifted to her by her brother before his departure to the Night's Watch.

 _Needle_ , she had called. Back then she thought the travel to King's Landing would be a grand adventure. Yet Cersei Lannister and her vile son Joff destroyed all her illusions and now she found herself here after a long odyssey of trials and blood.

She was now barely able to remain still, her eyes fixed on the rider perched on a dark destrier.

At first she didn't recognize Jon. He was now a grown man, wore a beard and his hair was much longer, nearly reaching to his shoulders.

Ghost greeted her first. He stormed towards her and threw her in the mood. He was now nearly as big as a horse, the wolf's wet tongue licking over her face.

"My Lady!" The Blackfish exclaimed, fear apparent on his weather-worn face.

"No need, Grand-Uncle!" she replied and pulled herself back to her knees. „Ghost is just greeting me!"

"I see, my Lady," he grumbled and Arya buried her face in Ghost's soft fur. „I missed you too."

"It seems Ghost was quicker," a gruff voice added. The sound of it warmed her heart and when she lifted her head she found her brother smiling down at her.

"Jon!" she exclaimed and didn't hesitate to jump into his arm. He was surprised nearly dropped her, but Arya was quick enough and enclosed him in a tight hug.

"Careful, little sister!" he chided and returned her hug, before placing her back on the ground.

"You have grown," he remarked, a tearful smile playing on his lips as he ruffled through her hair. „I hardy recognize you, little sister."

"And you have a beard…you look like father," she replied, but received no smile in return.

 _You fool_ , Arya thought. _He is still sad about father's death. I shouldn't have mentioned him._

"I see…you still have your little blade," he remarked, his dark eyes fixed on Needle.

"Needle kept me safe!" she confirmed and couldn't help but to grin. She felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders and the dark past was briefly forgotten.

"I see," he said, his voice laced with a hint discomfort. „I am glad Needle was of help to you. I assume your travel wasn't very pleasant?"

"No, my travel wasn't very pleasant," she confirmed hesitatingly. „I will tell you all about it if you care to hear."

"Of course," he replied softly and leaned down to place a kiss on her brow. „We can talk through the whole night if you like," he added, and shifted his attention back to the Blackfish, who had observed the whole exchange in grim silence.

"My Lord," her Jon greeted the older man. „I am pleased about your success. There is much we need to speak about."

"I hardly used my sword," the Blackfish replied gruffly. „Your sister freed the hostages and they butchered the Frey Lords in their beds. Taking Riverrun was a child's play. The servants massacred the ruling Frey Lord and Lady Roslin opened the gates for us."

"And Lord Edmure?" her Jon inquired. „Were you able to free him?"

"Aye," her Uncle confirmed. „He is anxious to meet you, your Grace."

…

His wife's presence helped to improve her Uncle's condition. He looked healthier and now and then she even saw a smile playing on his pale lips.

It was not hard to understand why. His wife, though a Frey by birth, was a sweet girl and his son a healthy boy graced with a mob of red hair. Looking at him pained Arya, because he showed a great resemblance to Rickon.

 _Rickon is waiting for me in Winterfell. And Sansa._

"This is Jon Snow, the King in the North," the Blackfish introduced Jon. Her Uncle Edmure smiled tightly and lowered his head in greeting.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, _your Grace_."

Jon smiled, but seemed to sense her Uncle's discomfort. His smile didn't reach his face.

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Tully," her brother answered and graced Lady Roslin with a smile. „I am also pleased to make you acquaintance, Lady Roslin."

"The pleasure is all mine," Lady Roslin answered softly and dropped a curtsy. „Your sister told us all about you. We owe you a great debt."

Then she pulled on Edmure's arm. "Isn't that true, dear husband?"

"Of course," her Uncle said at last and nodded his head in confirmation. „We owe you a great debt. If there is something I can do to help you…just speak the word."

"Well, there is something we need to discuss," Jon added. „It concerns Daenerys Targaryen and Cersei Lannister."

Arya read disapproval on her Uncle's face, but no voice of protest left his mouth.

Shortly after, Lady Roslin led them into a large solar. There was a hearth, a large oak table and a dozen of chairs placed around the table.

Supper was served while the men conducted their talks.

"Do I understand you correctly, your Grace," Lord Royce said grimly. „You want us to fight at Queen Daenerys' side?"

"Aye," Jon confirmed and sighed deeply. His frustration was written all over his face. „Our task would be to block the goldroad. Thus the Lannister army would have no path of retreat."

"But why would the Kingslayer besiege Highgarden?" her Grand-Uncle asked and sounded rather sceptical. „Highgarden is a mighty castle."

"The Kingslayer thinks that Randyll Tarly will turn his cloak for him," Jon explained. „Lady Olenna Tyrell was able to reveal his treachery and intends to prepare a trap. The Lannister army will be allowed to besiege Highgarden and Queen Daenerys will defeat them in battle."

"I see," Lord Edmure said, blue eyes narrowed in distrust. „I assume this will be a second Field of Fire?"

"I don't think…," Jon trailed off.

"Who the fuck cares?" Arya threw in, growing frustrated with her Uncle. She loved him for the sake of her mother, but his mistrustful behaviour towards her brother was grating on her nerves. „The Lannisters are our enemy…Or do you think Tywin Lannister gave a damn about Robb's butchered men?"

"Lady Arya," the Blackfish grumbled in disapproval. „I don't think…," he continued, but Jon cut him off.

"I saw the dragons," her brother said, his voice brimming with subdued anger. „People will die, but I also know Cersei Lannister. She will not stop before her armies are destroyed. All I ask is that the Riverlords and the Knights of the Vale help. The matter of succession can be addressed after the battle is won."

"And what if Queen Daenerys changes her mind?" Lord Royce asked. „Your Grandfather and Uncle were murdered her mad father. She could burn our armies to cinder."

"And what use would that be?" Jon asked angrily. „She wants to win allies and she even apologized to me for her father's deeds."

"She did what?" Lord Royce asked and nearly dropped his cup of wine. „Surely, you are jesting?"

"No, I am not," Jon replied through gritted teeth. „She knows about her father's cruelty."

"That may be," Lord Royce replied sceptically. „But there is another possible explanation. Maybe she was just trying to fool you. I always respected your Lord Father, but he was too trusting. You have much of him…," he continued, but Arya decided to make her thoughts known.

"I think you brave lot are just pissing your pants," Arya mocked and ignored their shocked expressions. „My brother came back alive from Dragonstone. Doesn't that prove that the Dragon Queen is willing to cooperate?"

Even Jon looked shocked, but her blunt approach worked wonders.

"Lady Arya speaks true," Lord Edmure agreed hesitatingly. "I intend to keep my word. I will convince my Lords to fight at Queen Daenerys' side."

"Edmure," the Blackfish said and opened his mouth in protest, but her Uncle's determined look silenced him.

"Very well," Lord Royce agreed at last and frowned at Arya. „We will fight…I am certainly not pissing my pants."

…

"What a stubborn lot!" Arya remarked, a smile curling on her lips.

"They are," Jon agreed and continued to flex his hand. „But I expected their hostile reactions. They don't hold much love for the Targaryens…," he trailed off.

Arya didn't know what to make of her brother's words. He spoke so favourable of the Queen and even defended her cause. When did he become a Targaryen supporter?

"No," she agreed and sat down on the opposing chair. The popping fire calmed her and reminded her of home. „But their mistrust is understandable… Or did you forget about the Rebellion?"

"No," Jon answered and lifted his head to meet her gaze. He looked conflicted and even a little fearful.

„You are right…," he trailed off. His hesitation annoyed her and she decided to get straight to the point.

"Tell me already," she prodded impatiently. „What do you want to tell me? I told you about my past adventures and you told me about yours. Yet I can see that there is more you want to tell me."

He nodded his head and exhaled deeply.

"There is something I need to tell you, but nobody can know about it…"

"My lips are sealed," she promised quickly, her impatience getting the better of her. „Tell me about your secret."

"Arya…I am not your brother…," he stuttered.

Arya was stunned.

"What?"

"I am not your brother and Eddard Stark was not my father. He lied to your lady mother…my mother was Lyanna Stark."

Arya gasped, still trying to comprehend what her brother just told her.

"But…who…," she stuttered, but when she saw the pained look on Jon's face she knew the answer. _Lyanna Stark was taken by Prince Rhaegar…he raped and murdered her._

"Prince Rhaegar Targaryen," Jon spoke the name she was unable to force over her lips.

"Oh, Jon!" she exclaimed and leaned over to squeeze his hands.

"He didn't rape her," Jon added quickly and increased her confusion. „He loved her and they got married. I am no bastard."

Arya frowned, but what he told her made sense. Her Lord Father often compared her to Aunt Lyanna. Arya would never allow anyone to rape her. She would rather cut her own throat.

"Jon," she said and tightened her grip on his hands. „I don't care if you are the son of this stupid Prince, but you will always be my brother. And your secrets is safe…I won't tell anyone."

Jon smiled and ruffled her hair.

"I thank you, little sister," Jon replied and grinned. „It is a great relief to speak openly."

"I am always prepared to listen," she offered. „And I am glad that you told me the truth."

"There is more," Jon added hesitatingly. „I need your help…after the battle…Cersei Lannister needs to die."

"Of course," she confirmed without hesitation. „I will go to King's Landing and end her life."

"No!" Jon disagreed firmly. „That would be far too dangerous. King's Landing is full of wildfire…I won't lose you again."

"Lose me again?" she asked and wrinkled her brows in confusion.

"Nothing," he replied mysteriously. „I trust in your abilities, but I don't want to endanger your life. I intend to lure Cersei Lannister out of her hiding and then you will be able to do your work."

"How?"

"A parley…a Grand Council…an assembly of the High Lords of Westeros…call it what you will," he tried to explain his plans. „I want to confront the High Lords of Westeros with the true enemy to win their armies to our cause. And as I said…my hope is that Cersei will be desperate enough to attend this assembly. Then I intend to take her life and crown in one swoop…I know…your father would be ashamed of me, but Cersei cannot be trusted."

"I know," Arya confirmed the pain of Mycah's and Lady's deaths still fresh in her mind. „You are right to mistrust Cersei. You have my support, but I have one question."

"Speak," he prodded, a sad smile showing on his lips. „And I will try to answer your question."

"You are Prince Rhaegar's son…that makes you the heir…when you say that you want to take her crown…Does that mean you intend to make yourself King?"

Jon paled and shook his head.

"I don't know what I will do," her brother tried to explain. „First I need to tell Queen Daenerys the truth.

"Jon," she said and decided to be as blunt as possible. „Do you like the Queen?"

"You are still as quick as I remember," he said and leaned back in his chair.

"Aye," he confirmed. „I like her very much."

"Well, she can't be too bad if you like her. I want to see her dragons."

Jon chuckled.

"I understand that, but I have other plans for you…"

…

 **Jaime**

Jaime shivered as stepped outside. The sky was dreary and a cool breeze was blowing through the camp. Highgarden was a beautiful castle, build on different levels and graced with tiled balconies overseeing green meadows and hills. He saw flowers, vines and other greenery snaking its way around the walls and couldn't help but to feel a hint of regret. It was a paradise built by human hands.

Why Cersei hated the Tyrells so much was not difficult to explain. The Tyrell Queen dared to intrude on her territory and paid with her life.

 _She is using you_ , Brienne had told him during their meeting in Riverrun. _And she will throw you away once she has no use for you anymore._

As always, Jaime had defended Cersei. They both survived the War of the Five Kings, the death of their father and daughter. He had hated her after hearing about her entanglement with Lancel, but their daughter died and he told himself that they would be able to overcome this betrayal.

Now he knew the truth. The Cersei he loved died with Joff and Myrcella. Not even Tommen's death moved her. Even their soft-hearted boy was a traitor in her eyes for loving the Tyrell girl.

After the destruction of the Sept he had every intention to leave her, but the revelation of her pregnancy held him back.

 _We have another chance_ , she had assured him with her ever sweet voice. _Another child. A future._

Bronn called him a fool, but he was still here, helping him to fight his enemies.

"It seems Lord Tarly is here to stage his mummery," Bronn remarked, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet.

"It seems so," Jaime agreed and spotted the banner of House Tarly. Lord Tarly himself led the large column of shining armour, playing the loyal subject.

It was Jaime's plan, but he held little love for the man. A man who is prepared to stab his liege Lord in the back cannot be trusted, but then his sister decided to put her trust in Euron Greyjoy.

Jaime hated Robert Baratheon, but Euron Greyjoy didn't deserve anything less than a sword through his gut. Trusting him was madness, but Cersei claimed the crown and not Jaime.

 _Maybe I should have claimed the crown for myself_ , he thought not for the first time. _Every fool can call himself a King these days…_

"I think it is time to play our part, my Lord," Bronn mocked and Jaime agreed. He pulled the visor of his helmet down, unsheathed his sword and sent their heavy cavalry to engage Randyll Tarly's men in a staged battle.

The cries of horses, the clinking of steel and the sound of war horns rolled over the valley. Then another horn was sounded and the infantry marched forward.

The sight of the dying men filled Jaime with shame, but he had no other choice. He was barely able to muster more than twenty-thousand men and at least one third of them were green boys. Trickery was the only solution for his dilemma.

 _Father would be proud._

"I think it is time to retreat," Bronn remarked jokingly and Jaime agreed. Moments later he ordered the retreat. They even left everything behind, pretending to flee the battlefield.

Now all Randyll Tarly had to do was to play the saviour and stab Willas Tyrell in the back.

Thus they left Highgarden behind them and moved back to the goldroad. The road was not optimal for a travelling army, but they planned to make camp near the next town and to return to Highgarden in the morning.

Yet they never made it to the next town.

"Did you hear that?" Bronn asked, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet.

It took Jaime a moment to realize what he meant, but then he heard it too. Suddenly, the ground started to shake. Like rolling thunder the sound of horse hooves filled the air and Jaime's heart nearly skipped a beat.

"I hear it…I hear it!" he confirmed and whirled his horse around.

He heard tales about the Dothraki, but nothing prepared him for this.

Hundreds of them stormed down the slope, the echo of their war cries filling the air. Yet that was only the beginning.

Suddenly, a massive black dragon swooped down from the sky, hovering above their men like a massive kite, blending out all sunlight.

"Fuck!" he heard Bronn curse as he tried to call the men to order. „Keep together!"

Jaime angled his head to get a look at their men. Fear was written over their faces and many a man shuddered like a maid before the bridegroom.

A loud roar filled the air and hot flames pierced their lines. They burned in colours of orange, red and yellow. Higher and higher they rose and extinguished their lines, one after another.

Many a man was not even able to cry out, before they were burned to a crisp, the smell of burned flesh filling his nostrils.

Jaime knew it was no use to fight. Their plan failed and he needed to save as many as possible. Cersei's crown was not worth the death of these brave men.

"Retreat!" he called and heard Bronn do the same. „Retreat!"

Yet their lines were broken by the Dothraki cavalry, any semblance of order completely lost. Most of their men fled, their crimson cloaks blurred by the whirled up smoke and dust.

Suddenly, the dragon swooped down from the sky and unfurled another sea of flames upon them. A moment later hundreds of men were gone, Bronn among them. Jaime felt sick, unable to comprehend the feelings whirling up inside him.

Was it fear or anger? He was unable to place it.

"Retreat after me! Down the road!" he shouted and a good hundred men followed his command, riding down the road like madman. „After me!"

His eyes burned from the smoke and his arm ached. The flames touched him, but he was still alive.

 _We only need to get away_ , he thought as they left the enemy lines behind them. _Then we can regroup._

Hours had passed since they left the battle behind them and Jaime was finally able to get a picture of his defeated army.

Several thousand men were left, scattered and following after him like beaten dogs.

He felt bile rise up in his throat. His mouth was dry and he tasted ash on his lips.

Tears burned in his eyes as listened the .

 _The war is lost_ , he knew, but he doubted that Cersei would agree with him.

"My Lord!" one of his captains called out. He was a stocky man and graced with a hawk-like nose. His face was drenched in sweat and his right ear heavily burned. „Enemies ahead!"

"What?!" he exclaimed and narrowed his eyes against the blinding sun.

He blinked once, twice, but after the third time he knew that it was no illusion. Maybe two thousand men, mounted cavalry blocked their path, the familiar banners of House Tully and Arryn fluttering above them.

"Form a line!" he ordered his men and most of them obeyed, much to his relief. „Form a line! Enemy ahead!"

Yet it was too late. A horn roared and the enemy attacked them without mercy.

Jaime cut down one man after another. His anger stirred him to action, blood soiling his blade.

He crossed blades with a knight of the Vale and cut off his head in one swoop. Then he picked up a spear and buried it the next enemy.

He was beyond fear and death.

He counted a dozen of men, but it was not enough. Suddenly, a massive white wolf emerged from the sea of men and buried his teeth in the neck of his horse.

He was barely able to move out of the way, before the animal could smash him to pieces.

Slowly, he pulled himself back to his feet and found a rider observing him from the distance.

Said rider removed his helmet and revealed a long face, his dark hair falling around his shoulders like raven feathers.

Quickly, the rider climbed from his horse, his blade in hand. It was made of Valyrian Steel, the smoky black surface shining like a black diamond.

Jaime freed his blade. _Widow's Wail._

No word was spoken as their blades kissed, the sound of steel mixing with the cries of the battle.

Left and right the blades met, one blow stronger than the next. Jaime was exhausted from battle, his feet weak like jelly. Sweat was rolling down his temples as he stumbled over his feet and lost his footing.

 _Pathetic_ , he thought and felt a jolt of pain rushing his shoulder. His armour was damanged, his skin red and swollen. _Pathetic._

"It is over, Kingslayer," the sombre young man declared, his sharp blade biting into Jaime's neck.

"Then do it…make it end," Jaime spat, his voice strained and distant to his ears.

The young man shook his head. He recognized him now. It was the bastard boy…the bastard boy he mocked for joining the Night's Watch.

"No, you will be our prisoner."

…

 **Daenerys**

Her dragons continued to circle over Highgarden. They looked happy, but Daenerys wanted nothing more than to leave this place. The battle was won, but she felt no triumph. She was proud of her children, but burning man alive was not something she relished.

Olenna Tyrell didn't seem to share her regrets, but Daenerys didn't lose half her family to wildfire.

Jon Snow's allies were different. They eyed her with mistrust and sometimes she heard them whisper behind her back.

To them she was still the Mad King's daughter. Jon Snow promised her negotiations, but she doubted it will be enough to wash away their mistrust.

 _Tomorrow_ , she told herself and walked along a particularly beautiful fountain. It woke a sweet memory from her childhood.

Lacking coin, she and her brother Viserys were forced to bath in a fountain, which brought them much trouble.

She even recalled her brother's smile, but not long after this day he was forced to sell their mother's crown.

"Your Grace…," a familiar voice called her back to the present moment. She turned around and found the King in the North, devoid of his cloak and armour.

Even his surcoat was gone, the sleeves of his white tunic rolled up. Sweat was covering his head and his hair looked wet as if he sprinkled it with water.

The sight made her cheeks burn and rekindled old feelings she believed long buried. Tyrion wanted her to wed him and she was beginning to think that such an arrangement could prove quite pleasant.

Jon Snow was comely to look upon and graced with a rather sombre temper, but that mattered little to her. She needed a man she could trust and Jon Snow was such a man.

"Jon Snow," she greeted and decided to be less formal. „I hope your men are satisfied with their lodging. Lady Olenna promised me to take care of it."

"They are satisfied," he confirmed, a ghost of a smile hushing over his lips. „But don't expect words of gratitude. Like my sister would say…they are a stubborn lot."

"Sounds like your sister and I would get along splendidly," she replied. „When will I be able to meet her?"

"She won't come here," he answered apologetically. „I sent her to Winterfell. She did not approve of my decision, but she listens to me."

"A shame," she remarked and smiled. „I would have liked to meet her."

"You can still meet her," he countered. „Do you remember my offer?"

"Of course," she confirmed by the change of topic. „But I told you…I can't send my armies North before Cersei is defeated."

"I have a better idea," he countered and smiled mischievously. „We could use your dragons and fly to Winterfell. I doubt it would take more than a week."

"I like the idea," she replied. „But first I want to speak to your allies and then we need to return to Dragonstone."

"Of course," he agreed and nodded his head in understanding. „Val and my men are waiting for me."

"I see," she said. She often saw him and Val spending time together. Even Tyrion considered them more than friends, but Val never made such allusions to her.

 _I will ask her about it,_ she decided. _As subtle as possible._

"And Lord Tarly?" he asked and changed the topic again. „What will happen to him?"

"I don't know," she replied and shrugged her shoulders. „He is Lord Tyrell's bannerman."

"And the Kingslayer?" he inquired curiously.

"He is my hostage," she replied. „Lord Tyrion thinks he could be useful to force Cersei into submission. I have yet to speak to him, but I rather not speak about him. I am tired."

"Me too," he agreed and dipped his head. „I will leave you then, your Grace."

"Very well," she agreed and felt slightly disappointed. „Have a good night, your Grace."

…

 **As always, thank you for the reviews.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Jon**

Jon found Daenerys and Lord Tyrion alone.

Daenerys wore a flowing dress of black silk and embellished with red rubies formed in a three-headed dragon. Lord Tyrion was dressed in black and red, a small silver pin shining on his vest.

"Your Grace," he greeted Daenerys."Are you prepared to meet my stubborn allies?"

Daenerys smiled, but Tyrion remained uncharacteristically dour. Usually, he would chime in and add a joke of his own, but it seems this brother's imprisonment was darkening his mood.

"I spoke to my brother," Lord Tyrion explained. "He refused to write our massage to my sister."

Jon wasn't surprised, but thankful for Tyrion's efforts.

"I expected this kind of reaction, but it doesn't change anything. I am sure your sister will attend the council if I guarantee her safety."

"I wish I could share your enthusiasm," Tyrion countered and sighed deeply. "What makes you so sure that she will believe you?"

"She thinks I am like my father…a man of honour," he told Tyrion."And we have your brother. She loves him doesn't, she? Do you think she would allow him to remain in the hands of her enemies? The offer to exchange your brother for Asha Greyjoy is more than generous."

"Maybe you are right," Tyrion granted and straightened his silver pin. "But this is not the sister I knew. The Cersei I knew loved her children, but this one is alone. I fear it will drive her to desperate measures."

"Aye," Jon agreed. "And that is why we need to remove her from power."

"The King in the North speaks true," Daenerys added and fastened her red cloak with a silver brooch wrought in the form of a three-headed dragon. "But first we need to convince your stubborn allies, or all our efforts are for nought."

"Indeed," Jon agreed and sighed when he found Ghost rolling on the ground near the entrance.

Daenerys was amused and knelt down to touch his head.

Ghost licked her hands and she giggled.

"It seems Ghost is warming up to me," she remarked in a joking manner and rose back to her feet, her red-cloak flowing after her like the plumage of a bird.

Even in Highgarden's Great Hall thousands of gilded rose vines ranked their way along the walls. For Jon this was a bit too much, but Daenerys seemed awed, her mouth standing open as she walked through the hall towards the high table, where she took her seat next to Lord Willas and Lady Olenna Tyrell. Jon and Tyrion took their seats next to her. Ghost placed himself below the table and continued to observe the guests.

Jon sensed the tension in the room. On the left side sat the Blackfish, surrounded by the Riverlords. Jon recognized Lord Bracken, Lord Blackwood, Lord Mallister and many more. Jon was sure that most of them wouldn't mind bending to Daenerys, but the Blackfish held much sway over them.

Lord Royce was a different matter. Most of the Vale Lords shared his mistrust for the Targaryens, but Jon doubted that they would be prepared to go to war. Jon thought of them like the Riverlords. They were like fish following a current. Sadly, Lord Royce was a very strong current.

A moment of silence passed, before Lord Tyrell rose to his feet to speak.

"My Lords!" he said and cleared his throat. "We were once enemies, because my Lord Father allied himself with the Lannisters to further his own ambitious. House Tyrell paid dearly for his lack of judgement, but my father is dead and gone. I am now the Lord of the Reach and I have every intention to repair the mistrust reigning between us."

Some clapped, but they lacked enthusiasm.

Jon expected it, but deep down he felt only frustration. Why can't they just forget about their pretty grievances and move on? What use is it to argue over the past when the true enemy is lurking beyond the Wall? Granted he only showed the dead man to the Lords of the Vale and the Blackfish, but even those who know about the threat remain frozen in their old ways.

"Lord Tyrell speaks true," Jon added carefully. "Nobody is asking you to forget about the past, but everyone here knows the ups and downs of history. Lord Tyrell's father was working for his own benefit as was Lord Hoster Tully when he rebelled against King Aerys. Changing allegiances are the way of the game…," he continued, but the Blackfish cut him off.

"My brother rebelled against a madman who murdered his future son-in-law!" he shouted, his face flushed in anger.

"And yet a great many of his lords didn't share Lord Hoster's opinion," he replied and met his gaze across the room. "Not all of them rose against the Mad King, did they?"

The Blackfish frowned.

"What are you trying to say?" he asked, his voice brimming with subdued anger. "That the Mad King didn't deserve his fate?"

"No, the Mad King deserved his fate," he answered and angled his head to look at Daenerys. She looked pale and stiff, but no emotion showed on her face. "But even the Mad King was not always mad. Betrayals and mistrust poisoned his mind and those who rose up for his cause might have done so, because they recalled his good years. Why do we have to insist on our righteousness? Aye, the Vale and the North had their reasons to depose the Mad King and even Lord Hoster Tully had his own reasons, but the other side had no less honourable people who were prepared to die for the Mad King's cause even if he didn't deserve their sacrifice. I am only asking of you to forget about your past grudges and see clearly. Children are not their fathers and should be judged by their own deeds."

"Maybe," Lord Royce agreed and rose to his feet, his grey eyes fixed on Daenerys. "But it is not easy to let go of the past. Your father…he murdered dear friend of mine. His name was Ser Elbert Arryn and he was Jon Arryn's heir."

"I am aware of my father's crimes," Daenerys replied in her queenly voice. "I understand you mistrust, but I didn't come here to burn the Seven Kingdoms, but fight at your side against your enemies. I cannot promise that my rule will herald a golden age, but I can promise that no harm shall come to those who seek my protection. I did not come here to demand a vow of allegiance, but to invite you to a meeting …a Grand Council to decide the succession once and for all. Queen Cersei will also be invited as will every high Lord who intends to attend."

"A Grand Council?" Lord Ryoce asked, his face alight with surprise. "A Grand Council hasn't been called since King Aegon the Unlikely."

"True," Daenerys agreed and graced the grim lord with one of her disarming smiles. "But these are extraordinary times and such times demand extraordinary measures. Don't you agree, my Lord?"

Lord Royce was speechless.

"Aye," he agreed at last. "These are extraordinary times…"

A smile played on Daenerys' lips.

"Does that mean I have your approval, my Lord?"

"Not yet," Lord Royce replied hesitatingly. "Where will this meeting take place? Surely not, in King's Landing? I don't want to set foot in a place controlled by Cersei Lannister."

"Of course not," Daenerys replied. "It will be the place where all our woes began…Harrenhall."

"Harrenhall?" the Blackfish asked. "This cursed place?"

The Queen of Thorns laughed.

"My, I never took you for a superstitious man."

"I am not superstitious, only cautious," the Blackfish grumbled. "My family has known too much death and betrayal."

"House Tyrell shares your grief, my Lord," Lady Olenna added and sounded very tired. "But superstitions and past grudges shouldn't keep u from doing what is necessary. Queen Daenerys proved her loyalty to me and I am prepared to support her idea, even though I wish she would burn Cersei Lannister to cinder."

The Blackfish frowned and swallowed hard.

Then he turned to look at Queen Daenerys.

"Very well," he agreed at last. "I will attend your council."

"You have my approval, your Grace," Lord Royce added sourly. It seems the simple matter of having to agree with Daenerys caused him great discomfort. "But I have one last question…"

"Speak, my Lord."

"What will you do if Cersei Lannister refuses to submit?"

"Then I will have no choice but to put an end to her," Daenerys replied without hesitation. "The King in the North told me that you are aware of the true enemy lurking beyond the Wall. This is Cersei Lannister's last chance to go in peace. Do you disapprove of my idea, my Lord?"

"No," Lord Royce replied stiffly and sat down. "Cersei Lannister needs to go."

…

"Well, consider me surprised," Lord Tyrion remarked after they had retreated back to a private solar, his face awash with relief. "I thought this would be harder."

"Maybe," Jon replied and whistled. Ghost heard him and finally left the furniture alone. "But they have yet to accept your Queen."

"But it is a step in the right direction," Tyrion countered and shifted his attention back to Daenerys. "Don't you agree, your Grace?"

"True," she agreed and pursed her lips. "But I have yet to face the Lords of the North, which is why I intend to make a short travel to the North. It will be no problem to return in time for the council."

"Travel to the North?" Tyrion asked and nearly dropped his goblet. "It takes weeks…," he continued, but then his face lightened up in understanding. "You intend to take the dragon."

"Indeed," she confirmed. "I intend to take the dragon and the King the North will accompany me."

A moment of silence passed as Daenerys and Tyrion exchanged a strange look.

Then Lord Tyrion started to laugh.

"I see," Lord Tyrion agreed and continued to laugh. "I see."

…

 **Daenerys**

Ser Jorah looked still pale, but much better than the last time he laid eyes on him. Daenerys forgave him long ago for his betrayal, but until now she wasn't able to return in her service.

"You look well," she remarked and couldn't help but to smile. Carefully, she poured him a cup of wine and shoved it over the table. "Here…this will help. Your travel must have been perilous."

"Aye," he confirmed and dipped his head slightly as he led the cup to his lips. Then he put the cup down and admired the Painted Table spreading before him.

"Your home is beautiful, your Grace," he said and graced her with a wry smile. "But I heard you have yet to take the capital. Is it true?"

"It is true," she confirmed hesitatingly. "But I have good reasons…Cersei Lannister sits on a stash of wildfire. I defeated her armies near Highgarden, but the war won't end until King's Landing is taken. Yet there are other enemies lurking beyond the Wall…the Others."

"The Others?" he asked, shock written all over his face. "My father…he used speak about them."

"So I heard," she said amusedly and took a sip from her cup. "The King in the North spoke much about your father and the Night's Watch. He also brought me a gift…a wight he called it. I am sure he would be prepared to show the creature to you."

"I heard about the King in the North's presence here, but I am surprised he knows my father."

"The King in the North served in the Night's Watch," she repeated what little Jon Snow and Tyrion revealed about his past. "He was Lord Commander, but he gave up his post after his brother's will freed from his vows. He came here to mine dragonglass and to convince me to join his cause."

"Lord Commander?" he gasped. "Then my father…then my father is dead."

Guilt washed over her when she witnessed his sadness.

"I apologize," she added and lowered her head. "I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"No," Jorah disagreed. "It is good that you told me…"

"I think the King in the North would be pleased to meet you…he spoke very highly of your father," she added, but read clear disapproval on Jorah's face.

"I am not sure about that, your Grace," he countered and swallowed hard. "His father exiled me for slavery. Besides, my Lord Father and I parted in enmity. I doubt he spoke very highly of me if at all. I broke his heart."

"You regret your past deeds, don't you?" she asked instead.

"Aye," he confirmed and exhaled deeply. "But my past will always haunt me."

"Maybe," she added gently and leaned over to squeeze his hand. "Still, the King in the North is my ally and I hope we can work together. Yet I still have to convince the Lords of the North…I will soon travel to the North."

She read disapproval on his face, but she made her decision. She knew that he was only worried about her safety, but she trusted the King in the North to keep his word and she didn't want to show weakness. She was still a Queen and showing fear wouldn't serve her cause.

There were other reasons she agreed to the travel to the North, but she didn't want to tell Ser Jorah about it. His affections flattered her, but she was unable to recuperate them. She didn't want to increase his pain when he made all this effort to return to her side.

"Your Grace…the North holds not much love for the Targaryens," he argued, but Daenerys remained firm.

"I know that," she confirmed and graced him with another smile. "The King in the North assured my safety and we will travel by dragon. These hostile Northmen would have to face Drogon."

"Still…," he began, but stopped himself in the last moment. "I understand."

She smiled and was thankful for his trust.

"I thank you, old friend."

…

She found Val overseeing the proceedings before her departure to the North. Jon's words turned out to be true. None of the man dared to slack under the young woman's watchful gaze.

 _She would make a good Queen._

It was a stilly thought, though she knew that the Northmen disliked the Wildlings as much as they disliked Targaryens, but she wouldn't fault the King in the North if he made the young woman his Queen.

"Your Grace," Val greeted her as she noticed her approach. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted say goodbye," she replied. It was only half a lie, for she really enjoyed the Lady's presence and her stories about the Free Folk. "And I wanted to ask you something…," she continued, but lacked the right words. She wanted to ask as subtle as possible, but that was harder than anticipated.

"It is about the King in the North," she added carefully. "I wondered…you two seem close."

Realization showed on Val's face.

"Close is the wrong word. I wanted to steal him, but he refused me…the stubborn fool," she explained, but her words confused Daenerys.

"Steal?" she asked. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I offered him a place in my bed. I think your people would call it marriage, though it is far less strict. It is not uncommon for a man of the Free Folk to steal more than one woman in their lifetime. As I said…he refused me. We are good friends and I owe him, because he saved Mance."

"I see," Daenerys said and tried to hide her happiness. "Though he is a fool to refuse you. Most men would cut off their fingers to share your bed."

"Well, Lord Crow was always an odd fellow," Val said, her blue eyes alight with amusement."Ygritte thought she could change him…," she continued, but stopped abruptly.

"Forgive me…it is not my place to talk about her," Val added and smiled awkwardly. "Anyway…Lord Crow is yours. I don't know if you noticed, but I think he likes you…it is only hard to tell, because he is carrying his sullen smiles. All advice I can offer to you is this: he prefers bluntness over flowery courtship."

Daenerys was amused.

"I will keep that in mind," she answered. "Thank you, for your advice."

"I am always at your service," the young woman told her and tightened her cloak around her shoulders, before climbing in the boat. "But it I time to leave. My people are waiting for the dragonglass. I hope you get rid of this Lion Queen and get your crown. I wish you good luck and keep Lord Crow out of troubles."

Then she cocked her head and started to grin.

"Speaking of Lord Crow..."

Daenerys turned around and found the King in the North, walking down the narrow trail leading to the beach.

"You are just in time Lord Crow," Val greeted the King in the North. "Everything is ready for our departure."

"I heard," he said. "I hope it will be enough."

"It will be enough," Val insisted enthusiastically. "Stop your fretting. We were working hard while you fought against the Lion Queen."

"I hope so," he added and finally a smile showed on his lips. _We still have my dragons_ , she wanted to add, but kept it to herself.

"Just wait and see," Val replied and grinned while the men were loosening the ship and started shoving it out onto the sea. "We are going to send the White Walkers back where they came from…," they heard Val's voice echo over the crushing waves.

"Lady Val sounds quite enthusiastic, doesn't she?" she asked, lacking a better topic.

"She is of the Free Folk," the King in the North explained. "Enthusiasm is the only thing that keeps you alive beyond the Wall."

"So I heard," she added and smiled. "But I noticed Ser Davos absence…Will he remain here?"

"Ser Davos wants to go to King's Landing," he explained and gave her a knowing smile. "He is going on a mission…to retrieve the future Lord of the Stormlands."

"What?" she asked and thought he was joking with her. "Are you joking?"

The King in the North grinned.

"No, I am not joking. The boy he is searching for is Robert Baratheon's bastard son. The Stormlords might be prepared to accept you as Queen if you return the Stormlands to someone of Baratheon blood. It is your decision, but Ser Davos wanted to find the boy anyway and if we are lucky he will be able to bring us the newest rumours from King's Landing."

"I have no doubt that the Stormlords would be pleased about such an arrangement," she agreed partly, her gaze fixed on the moving waves. "But how do I make sure that these Stormlords don't stir up another rebellion against me? And what if they end up supporting the bastard boy?"

"They won't…he is a commoner," the King in the North replied. "And supporting the bastard boy would mean they have to fight against your dragons. That is part of the reason I suggested the Grand Council. Bending the knee to you hurts their pride, but the Council allows them to keep their face. None of them will support Cersei's claim. The Lannisters made too many enemies."

"Yet that is not the only reason, is it?"

He nodded his head.

"I will show them the face of our true enemy. Many a lord in Westeros has yet to see the wight and I hope this will convince them to join our cause. I will also show them solution to our problem."

"My dragons," she added determinedly.

"Aye, your dragons."

"I still don't like installing a Baratheon bastard as Lord of the Stormlands."

"I can understand that, but we will even need the Stormlords to fight against the White Walkers. Your Dothraki and Unsullied are valiant warriors, but they are not native to Westeros. Even the Lords from the south suffer from the cold, but your Dothraki are used to constant summers. They are not enough."

"Lord Tyrion dispatched a raven to Cersei Lannister. We will know more when we return."

"True," he agreed, his voice drowned out by the howling wind. "But it matters not. Cersei will fall…the only question that remains is: Will she go in peace?"

"I hope so," she added and tried to forget about Cersei Lannister's wildfire. It was the reason she avoided speaking to Jaime Lannister. Lord Tyrion told her about her father's plans for the rebels, but she feared what else the Kingslayer could reveal to her. "But Lord Tyrion is not optimistic."

"I know," he confirmed and gave her gentle smile that warmed her from her head down to her toes. "But it will end soon, for better or worse."

She couldn't have voiced it any better and returned his smile.

"For better or worse."

…


	16. Chapter 16

**Daenerys**

The sky was painted in a soft blanket of velvet. They had travelled a whole day on Dragon's back to make it here to the Neck, but the way to Winterfell was still far.

Jon didn't lie when he said that the North is vast. Yet Jon's lack of fear of her children confused her even more.

It felt as if it was not the first time he spent in company of a dragon.

"Can you land here?" Jon asked her, his voice muffled by the howling wind. "I can see Moat Cailin."

Daenerys would have preferred to move on to Winterfell, but Jon insisted on paying a visit to a certain Howland Reed. She agreed only hesitatingly, though her backside was hurting from the long ride.

"I can," she confirmed and patted Drogon's scaled back. "We need to get down here."

Her clever child didn't hesitate to fulfil her wish and started to descend towards the blurred ruin rising out of the wilderness.

Carefully, Drogon landed on the ground, his massive body whirling up dirt and destroying several trees along the way.

"Good work!" she praised her clever child and smoothed her hand over his scaled back. "I thank you for the soft landing."

"Soft landing indeed," Jon agreed and started to crawl down from Drogon's back. Daenerys followed after him, still perplexed by his calm attitude towards Drogon.

 _Is he brave or stupid?_

On the ground, she was able to get a closer look at the castle. It was dusk, the castle nothing more than a dark shadow of bent towers and decaying stone walls.

Jon told her that this castle was built by the Children of the Forest as a defence against the invading First Men. Now the Children of the Forest were gone and nothing more than ruin remained.

Maybe we will share their fate, she thought, fear washing over her as she thought of the wight.

"Your Gr…," Jon addressed her, but corrected himself in the same breath. "Daenerys…we will have to walk, but I asked Lord Manderly to inform Lord Reed about our impending arrival.

"I don't mind walking," she assured him and followed after him. She trusted him to lead the way, though the marshes stretching before her unsettled her.

They walked for one or two hours. The weather proved mild and almost pleasant, but the ground was growing muddy. Once she found sank down to her waist and Jon had to drag her out. Even Jon had his problems, though he was considerably taller than her. It made her long for a horse.

As they continued their walk, small streams appeared, joining into a large single river, glimmering in the distance. Thin rays of sunlight were falling through the thick canopy of the castle and gave the landscape an almost magical appearance. It was beautiful to behold, though Daenerys wondered how this Lord Read meant to find them in this wilderness.

"They will find us," he assured her again and offered his hand to her. She nodded her hand and took his hand without hesitation. It made it easier to move through the mud and assured her that she wasn't alone.

She still wondered where these wondrous crannogmen were hiding. They had yet to meet a single human being. Their only travelling companions were the mosquitoes trying suck the blood out of their veins.

Once the night had fallen Jon lit a torch, but even that was not much use. The mist made it hard to see further than a few feet.

Suddenly, she heard it. It was the sound of snapping twigs that made her turn around.

The shadows dancing against the trees shifted and changed into human forms. For a brief moment Daenerys thought they were the fabled Children of the Forest, but when she saw their faces she knew that they were humans. Small, breathing humans, armed with spears and nets.

"Well met, your Grace," a female voice greeted them. It was a skinny girl with dark curly hair that grinned down at them from her lookout. Perched in the tree, she gave the appearance of a mischievous monkey. "My name is Meera Reed, daughter of Howland Reed. Your brother Bran is a good friend of mine."

Jon returned her smile and lowered his head in greeting.

"Well met, Lady Reed. And I thank you for escorting my brother back to Winterfell. My sister was kind enough to inform me about his arrival. I am eager to see him, but first I need to speak to your Lord Father. I hope our visit is no bother."

"On the contrary," the girl replied and graced Daenerys with a curious look. "My father will be pleased to receive you. You…and her Grace are welcome in our halls."

Daenerys lowered her head in acceptance.

"I am thankful for your hospitality."

"No need," the girl replied and shook her head. "Bran said that you are coming to help us."

Daenerys didn't know what to make of the girl's words, but she was tired and in need of fresh water to clean herself.

…

More and more crannogmen joined them as they followed along a narrow trail, snaking its way along the riverbed.

There hidden under the reeds they found small islands swimming in the green water. Yet they were no islands, but boats, covered in moss and foliage. Swimming among the gnarled trees jutting out of the waters they were hardly recognizable.

Carefully, the crannogmen pulled the long slender boats out of the water. six men each could fit into such a boat, but only two could paddle and it was hard to navigate the ship along the narrow stream.

In silence they sailed down the stream, passing trees and thick foliage. By now it should be in the middle of the night, but it didn't make any difference. All sunlight was absorbed by the thick treetops.

"We are nearly there," Meera Reed announced at last, the lanterns fastened at the prow of the ship the only light in the darkness of the woods.

Jon frowned, his dark eyes wandering over the foliage and trees. Daenerys was equally confused. She saw nothing. No house, no Keep, nothing.

"There!" the girl repeated and pointed at a large tree, that was no real tree. It was a fortress, a tree growing out of it.

Only the light falling through the small narrow windows belied the truth. This was Greywater Watch, the home of the crannogmen.

"Please come along," Meera Reed prodded and opened a door. Inside they were greeted by two men, armed with spears and nets. _Guards_ , Daenerys thought and was eyed with distrust.

Meera handed them her net and spear. Then she turned around to look at Jon.

"You have to give up your sword," the girl explained softly. "The guest right prevails even in the Neck."

"Aye," Jon replied, his voice laced with sudden sadness. "I understand."

Carefully, he unfastened his sword from his hip and handed it to one of the guards.

The castle was as dark as the swamp, the warm braziers and lanterns giving it an almost homely feeling.

The green eyes of the castle inhabitants followed them as they passed a long corridor leading to a staircase.

"Wait here… I will get my father," she informed them and climbed up the stairs, leaving them in company of a servant girl.

"Lady Meera ordered us to get you supper," the girl explained shyly.

"That would be lovely," Daenerys replied for Jon. He looked tense and pale.

"Please follow me," the servant girl explained and led them along another corridor until they reached a large low-ceiled hall.

There was no high table, but a large table and chairs covered in a green seam-like material.

The servant girl showed them to a table and was soon joined by another servant girl. They brought them cups filled with a dark bitter wine, grilled fish covered in slick green leaves and fresh bread accompanied by strange vegetables.

The wine made her wince, but Jon seemed unaffected or maybe he was just better at hiding his disgust.

At last Meera Reed returned in company of an elderly man, who shared her features and small height.

"Your Grace," he greeted him along the way, his green eyes glimmering in an eerie light. "Welcome to Greywater Watch."

Jon didn't answer at once, his dark eyes narrowed in discomfort.

"I came here to hear the truth," he said and seemed to force the words over his lips. "The truth about the Rebellion. I am sure you know what I am referring to."

Howland Reed's eyes widened in surprise while Daenerys was still mulling over Jon's strange words.

What truth is he referring to? Was this the reason he dragged her all the way through the swamp?"

"You know?" Howland Reed asked. "Did Ned tell you?"

"I know," Jon confirmed tightly. "I brought Daenerys here to hear the truth. She deserves to know."

"I understand," the Howland Reed said, his voice weak and sad. Then his gaze darted to Daenerys. "I met your brother Rhaegar only once, but he had a friendly disposition. He was a bit strange, but he was like my son…he had the gift. We crannogmen call it green dreams, though your brother called it visions. This gift of prophecy can be both a blessing and a plight. Your brother had his failures, but he didn't rape my friend Lyanna."

Daenerys was stunned.

She opened her mouth, but she didn't know what to say.

What he told her went against everything she heard, but she tried to approach this with utmost care.

"Lady Lyanna was your friend?"

"Aye," Howland Reed replied, a sad smile washing over his lips. "She was my friend…she defended my honour against a bunch of unruly squires. None of the high lords attending the tourney gave me a second glance, but she did. She had me sit at the high table as if I was part of her family. Her death was a tragedy, but you should know that it wasn't your brother who caused her it. She died from a fever…after she birthed a child.

Daenerys gasped and grabbed the table.

"A child!" she muttered and turned to look at Jon. _He knew about this…Why else would he bring me here?"_

"What happened to the child?" she dared to ask after a long moment of silence had passed between them. "Did it die?"

When Lord Reed didn't answer she shifted her attention back to Jon. He was tense like a bowstring, his gaze fixed at the empty goblet placed on the table before him.

Finally, he lifted his head and met her gaze.

"It lived," he confirmed, the answer hanging in the air, frozen like ice."Lord Stark named him a bastard to keep him safe from Robert Baratheon's wrath."

"You knew this?" she asked, deeply hurt by his lie. "Did you enjoy fooling me…," she continued, but he interrupted her.

His sad look cooled the anger unfurling her stomach, but it was not enough to take away the sting of betrayal she felt.

"I didn't tell you, because I wasn't sure if you would believe me. I know, but not everything. I wanted you to hear the truth from someone who was there. "

"I don't want to hear about Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon!" she snapped back, still unable to grasp the truth. For years she had believed that she was the last Targaryen, but now all of it turned out to be a lie. She felt relieved, but also anger. "The first one sent my brother's son to the Night's Watch and the other one murdered my family. I don't want to hear about them."

"Lord Stark had his failures," Jon said and started to flex his hand. "Nobody denies that."

"And Robert thought himself in love with Lyanna," Lord Reed cut in."But that was another lie. I saw him bed one girl after another while he thought his beloved Lyanna raped by your brother. Sadly, Lyanna loved his enemy and even dare to birth his child. Call her selfish if you will, but she was right about one thing. Robert never loved her. Ned called him a friend, but I was never able to share his love. Your father the Mad King was a monster who deserved his fate, but his butchered grandchildren haunt me day and night. It was Tywin who butchered the babes, but a man who rejoices over the murder of innocents knows no honour."

Jon didn't speak and averted his gaze, but Daenerys had so many questions.

"Lyanna loved my brother?" she asked Lord Reed, scarcely able to believe it. "Is that really true?"

"Not only that. He married her and he made her his second wife. She loved him with all her heart."

"That means…," she began, her gaze darting back to Jon. He was still silent, his eyes wet with tears.

"That means you are my brother's true heir," she finished her sentence. Yet he didn't look happy about this revelation.

Her brother Viserys never failed to remind her about his status as heir, but Jon Snow remained silent, his face pale like candlewax.

He nodded his head in confirmation.

"My true name is Aemon Targaryen, but I don't care for the crown. The Iron Throne means nothing in the grand scheme of things. You can have it for all I care."

She was speechless.

Then he rose to his feet and left the room.

…

 **Arya**

They have been travelling for nearly two weeks before they passed Moat Cailin and another fortnight before they finally arrived at Winterfell. Day in day out she kept watch, to search for the great grey castle of her childhood.

Fresh snowflakes whirled from the sky and melted in her hair as they passed Wintertown. She no living soul, though that was no surprise. Most people probably retreated behind the high walls of Winterfell.

In winter we have to protect each other, her Father's words sneaked back into her mind.

For a long time she thought herself the last living Stark, but that was another illusion. Robb, Mother and Father were gone, but her other siblings remained.

Her heart swelled with happiness as she noticed the banner of House Stark.

Yet she also felt fear.

Sansa and Arya parted in enmity. Jon assured her that Sansa changed, but it was hard leave the past behind her.

Her anxiety reached the high point as they passed through the Main Gate. Arya exhaled deeply and took a moment to observe every angle of her old home, but a familiar voice, soft like a feather snapped her out of her reverie.

"Arya!" the voice rattled over the courtyard. "Arya!"

Arya turned in her saddle and for a moment she mistook Sansa for her Lady Mother.

Holding her hand was a young boy graced with a shock of curled red hair, his blue eyes narrowed in mistrust. The mighty black direwolf prancing through told her who he was.

 _Rickon._

Arya was unable to speak and it was Sansa who bridged the distance.

"I am so glad to have you back!" Sansa wept and enclosed her in a tight hug.

"Sansa…," Arya said, her voice strained with emotions. "I can't breathe."

"Forgive me…," Sansa apologized quickly and released her from her embrace. Then she brushed her tears away and smiled down at her.

"You look so different…I hardly recognized you," her sister added and chuckled lightly.

"And you," she began and tried to smile. "You you look like mother."

"Of course she looks like her!" Rickon quipped, his face flushed in anger. "She is our mother!"

Arya gasped in surprise, her eyes darting back to Sansa, giving her a questioning look.

"What…," Arya began, but Sansa's shaking head silenced her.

"Of course," Arya replied and graced her little brother with a smile. "But you know my face don't you, little brother?"

The boy nodded his head.

"They said you are dead. Luwin and Ser Roderik…they all lied to me," he replied and ran off, Shaggydog trailing after him through the snow.

"I tried to explain it to him, but he refuses to acknowledge the truth," Sansa explained.

"I understand better," Arya confirmed and rubbed her shoulders. Her thin cloak was not much use against the brewing snowstorm.

Sansa laughed.

"It seems we both lost our tolerance to the cold," she remarked and smiled tightly. "I prepared supper for you and Bran returned to us."

Arya's heart nearly stopped.

"When did he arrive?"

"Barely a moon," Sansa replied and led the way.

The broth was plain, but filled her stomach. Arya enjoyed her meal to the fullest. The bread was the best, warm and fresh.

She even dared to ask for a second portion, which amused Sansa.

"When did you last enjoy a good meal?"

"Long enough," Arya replied and poured down another cup of ale. "I heard your time wasn't pleasant. Jon told me about it…Does that upset you?"

Sansa paled a little, but she still managed a smile.

"No…it is just…I would have liked to tell you the truth," Sansa stuttered and Arya felt guilt washing over her.

"You can still tell me," Arya added and brushed her unruly hair out of her face an idea blooming in her mind.

"Tonight," she said and graced Sansa with a smile. "You have not forgotten how to braid hair, have you?"

Sansa nodded her head, but was obviously perplexed by her question.

"Why are you asking?"

Arya grinned.

"Because it will give us enough time to share our stories."

…

Bran looked like Robb, though his face was much thinner and his red hair reached way past his shoulders.

He was placed in wheelchair, his eyes white as snow and the leaves of the great weirwood whispering in a thousand voices at once. Only Summer came to greet her and nuzzled her hand. Bran remained silent.

"What is wrong with him?" Arya asked and gave her sister a questioning look.

"Bran…Bran has visions," Sansa explained, her blue eyes full of worry. "He calls himself the Three-Eyed-Raven."

"Sansa speaks true," Bran said at last, his voice low and different from the boy she knew. It sounded like the voice of a boy on the cusp to manhood. "I am the Three-Eyed-Raven, but I have not forgotten you…Arya Underfoot."

Suddenly, his eyes changed from white to blue, a weary smile tugging on his pale lips. In this brief moment her brother was returned to her.

"Oh, Bran!" she exclaimed and wound her hands around his neck. He didn't move, but his breath trickled her cheek. "I thought you dead."

"I saw you," Bran answered. "You met Jon."

"Aye," she confirmed and brushed her tears away. "Aye, I met our brother."

"He is not our brother…not truly," Bran said and lifted his hand to touch her cheek. "He told you. He knows…he knows everything."

"He knows," she replied and felt Sansa's gaze burning in the back of her head.

"Jon…it is hard to explain," Arya stuttered. "Father lied…Jon isn't his son…not truly. He is the son of our Aunt Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."

Sansa paled a little, but remained calm. Well, it is probably not much of a loss to her. She always called him their half-brother.

"No wonder he didn't tell me…we all know what Rhaegar did…," Sansa continued, but Arya didn't hesitate to correct her.

"He didn't rape her. Our Aunt Lyanna loved and married Prince Rhaegar," Arya replied.

She read both realization and shock on Sansa's face.

"Gods…this means…that is the real reason he was so eager to meet the Dragon Queen…," Sansa muttered to herself.

Arya was confused by her sister's rambling.

"I loved her…he married her…they had a child…he killed her…I saw everything," Bran added.

His gaze was gloss and distant as if he wasn't really here. Gone was the brother she knew, exchanged with this Three-Eyed-Raven.

"Nonsense!" Arya quipped at her brother. "Jon wouldn't marry without me he certainly wouldn't kill his wife. And how could he have sired a child on her in the matter of a few moons?"

"He married her in his past resurrection," Bran explained, his blue eyes darting to Sansa. "You know the truth. He told you, didn't he?"

"Told her what?" Arya asked and tugged on her brother's cloak. "Spit it out, brother!"

"I know that Jon died," Sansa said and swallowed hard. "He was killed by his brothers and a Priestess from Asshai brought him back. I saw his scars…nobody could have survived this. And there is more…"

"More?" Arya asked. She witnessed the resurrection of a man, but it was hard to believe that Jon experienced a similar fate.

 _He was so different_ , she recalled. _Maybe that is the reason._

"Aye," Sansa confirmed. "He told me that this was his second resurrection…"

"You mentioned a Priestess from Asshai," Bran interrupted. "Where is she?"

"Watching her flames," Sansa answered. "What do you want from her?"

"I need to speak to her…later…," Bran muttered to himself and leaned back in his chair. "Jon will join us soon."

"I know," Sansa answered and folded her hands in front of her. "Jon informed me about his visit. He wants to convince the Lords of the North to support Queen Daenerys Targaryen's claim."

…

 **Jon**

Jon watched the shifting shadows dancing against the wall. He should have known that his lies would anger her.

 _You should have told her from the beginning_ , he knew and continued to oil his sword. Lady Meera was kind enough to return it to him after supper.

In his past resurrection she died during the Battle of Winterfell, trying to protect Bran from their enemy.

It was no use, but he still admired her bravery and loyalty.

Bran is lucky.

Finished with his work he sheathed his sword and leaned it against the table. Then he started to pull off his boots. The bed was comfortable, but rather small for person of normal height.

Yet a knock at the door made him stop and he slipped his boots back on his feet

As he opened the door he found Daenerys, garbed in a brownish-green dress, her silver hair kept in a long braid falling to her waist. It seems she took a bath, for her hair smelled of soap.

"I came to sue for peace," she declared in her queenly voice, though it was quite clear to him that she was joking.

Relief washed over him.

"When did you declare war on me?"

"I shouted at you…what I said wasn't right," she apologized and lowered her head as he allowed her to pass. "I am sure you had your reasons to keep the truth to yourself."

He swallowed hard, all tension leaving his body.

"I had my reasons," he said and jerked his head at the chair. "I will tell you about my reasons if you care to listen."

"I want to hear about your reasons," she confirmed and took a seat, her cloak slipping from her shoulders. Only then did he recognize that she was wearing a nightgown.

He swallowed hard and brushed those treacherous thoughts away.

Yet it was hard not to appreciate her heaving chest.

"I was afraid you would see me as a threat," he explained and met her gaze. "An imposter who wants to takes the throne you have been fighting for. And why would you believe me? I don't even look like a Targaryen."

"No," she said, a small smile hushing over her lips. "But it saved your life. At least that is what Howland Reed thinks."

"You spoke to him?"

"Aye," she said and leaned on the table placed near the chair. "He tried to answer all m questions. It is much to take in, but I believe you, despite your lack of silver hair and purple eyes. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Why?"

"The way my dragons treat you confused me at first, but now I know the reason," she said her purple eyes filled with warmth. "They know that you are my kin…part of my family."

The words pierced his heart and he felt a rush of warmth washing over him.

"You mean it?" he asked, his voice strained and distant to his ears.

He had the urge to tell her everything, to bare his mind to her, but something held him back.

The Daenerys he knew was bent and broken. This one knew nothing of the pain her other self went through.

It would be too much.

"I do," she replied and rose to her feet to bridge the distance between. Then she knelt down and folded her hand over his.

"I think you misunderstood the reason for my anger," she said. "I wasn't angry because you are the true heir, but because I thought you used me. I thought I was the only Targaryen left…that is why the throne is so important for me. It thought it my duty to retake the Iron Throne for my family, but I was wrong. You are the heir…you are the only one who can continue the Targaryen line. I won't have other children than my dragons," she continued, tears rolling down her cheeks.

He didn't mean to say it, but his mouth worked on its own accord.

"You are not barren…the witch lied to you…," he said, before his mind was even able to grasp what he had told her.

Her eyes widened in confusion, her fingernails digging into his hands.

"How do you know about her?" she asked, her voice brimming with emotions. "Did Tyrion tell you? Only he knows the truth…," she trailed off.

"No," he answered and swallowed hard. "I just know…there is much I need to tell you, but I fear it would be too much for you to accept."

She smiled at him, her hand lifting to brush his hair out of his face.

He leaned in into her touch and closed his eyes. When he opened them she was only inches away, her warm breath tickling his cheek.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, his voice a distant echo.

She smiled lovingly.

"I am going to kiss you," she declared softly and brushed their lips together in a teasing manner.

It was feather light, not hinting at anything more, yet it set him aflame.

He shuddered as she moved her mouth against his lips, brushing her slender fingers over his shoulder.

He couldn't help but to return her kiss. It had been too long. He was a weak fool.

Then, she pulled away and he wanted to curse her.

"The walls are thin," she replied teasingly and slipped her cloak back over her shoulders, before moving back to the door. "Good night."

"Good night," he replied, though he knew that he would find any sleep that night. _Curse her._

…


	17. Chapter 17

**Sansa**

Sansa found Bran in the godswood, an icy wind howling through the tree tops. Winter is here, but she knew this was only the beginning. _The Long Night._

"Sister," Bran's soft-spoken voice was nearly drowned out by the whispering of the leaves. Lady Melisandre, garbed in her crimson dress was also there. Sansa could only stare in awe at the Lady. Even in her thick pelt Sansa felt the touch of winter on her skin, but the Lady Melisandre was completely unaffected by the cold, spending hours at Bran's side.

What they were talking about she didn't know, but she was sure it were things she wouldn't be able to understand.

"My Lady Sansa," the Lady Melisandre greeted her politely and lowered her head. "Your visit is a surprise."

Sansa forced a smile over her lips and tried to be polite.

"A storm is coming…come inside," she explained her purpose. "Are you not cold, brother?"

Bran's pale eyes changed back to its blue colour, a weary smile showing on his pale lips.

"I am cold," he confirmed quietly. "Sansa is right. I think is time to go inside. Visitors are coming."

"Visitors?" Sansa asked and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders to block out the sharp wind."Jon?"

"No," Bran replied."Samwell Tarly…Jon's friend and a fellow brother of the Night's Watch."

"Jon mentioned him," Sansa replied and placed herself behind Bran's wheelchair. "Why is he coming here?"

"To help us in the war to come," Bran replied calmly as if he was speaking about the weather.

Sansa sighed and angled her head to look at Lady Melisandre.

"Will you join us, my Lady?"

"No, I will retreat to my chambers to watch the flames, my Lady," the Lady Melisandre explained and disappeared in a swirl of crimson silk.

Arya spent day and night on the ramparts, waiting for Jon's return. Thus when her younger sister stormed into the solar she knew that another one of Bran's predictions turned out to be true.

"Sansa!" she exclaimed and leaned against the doorframe."Someone is coming!"

"I know," she replied and fastened her cloak. "Bran informed me about our guests."

"Guests," Arya repeated a hint of disappointment showing on her long face. "I assume this is not Jon?"

"No," Sansa confirmed and pushed Bran's wheelchair along, out into the courtyard. "But he is one of Jon's friends, a brother of the Night's Watch."

"Like the ones that killed him?" Arya asked.

"No…this one is a good one," Bran assured her. "His name is Samwell Tarly."

The courtyard was covered in fresh snow, two kitchen maids trembling as their hurried back to work. The snow made it hard to move Bran's wheelchair, but with a bit of help from Arya and the guards they were able to make it all the way.

Their guests were travelling by cart, led by two large horses. Behind them rolled several other carts, probably peddlers who wanted to take shelter from the cold. Bumping over ice and snow, the cart rolled over the courtyard. On top of the first cart she spotted a chubby boy, dressed in faded black leather. Next to him huddled a young woman, holding young boy, wrapped in thick pelt.

"Samwell Tarly," Bran greeted the boy, a true smile curling on his lips. "Welcome to Winterfell."

The chubby boy laughed an unsure expression crossing over his face.

"I…," he began, his eyes widening in surprise when Bran pulled down his shawl. "Brandon Stark…you are the little boy…," he stuttered, his voice faltering in the wake of surprise.

"Aye," Bran confirmed. "Without your help we wouldn't have been able to overcome the Wall. I owe you."

He flushed, but not from the cold.

"You owe me nothing," Samwell Tarly assured him and eyed first Sansa and then Arya, before shifting his attention back to Bran. "You are Jon's brother…speaking of Jon. Where is he?"

"He travelled to Dragonstone to retrieve Dragonglass and to speak to Daenerys Targaryen. He will join us soon," Sansa explained and realized, much to her shame, that he boy was still waiting for her to introduce herself.

"Oh, that is good to hear," the Samwell Tarly said and smiled at his woman. "Did you hear that, Gilly? Jon will join us soon?"

"That is good to hear," the shy girl replied and smiled. "We brought him old books…tales about the Long Night."

"Interesting," Sansa replied politely, though she didn't have time to think about old dusty books. She had to prepare for the assembly."As Jon's representative I welcome you in Winterfell, Lord Tarly. My name is Sansa Stark," she continued and jerked her head at Arya. "And this is my younger sister Arya."

Samwell Tarly beamed.

"Oh, Jon spoke about you," he said and pointed at Arya. "You are the one with the sword…Needle, right?"

Arya grinned from one ear to the other.

"Needle," she confirmed.

"It is getting cold," Sansa remarked and rubbed her shoulders. "Maybe we should move inside. I asked one of the kitchen maids to prepare supper."

Surprise showed on Samwell Tarly's face.

"How did you know?"

"Bran told us," Arya explained quickly. "He knows everything…He is the Three-Eyed-Crow."

Sansa wanted to kick Arya for her answer. The boy will think us mad.

Confusion showed on Samwell Tarly's face, but he remained cheerful.

"Oh, how nice," he said and helped his woman from the cart. The young girl nearly slipped on an icy slate, but he caught her. "And supper is appreciated. Our travel was long and perilous."

Sansa smiled.

"Well, I hope you don't mind broth," she said half-jesting and half in earnest. "It is the only delicacy we can offer to you."

"No bother, my Lady," Samwell Tarly assured her. "My time at Castle Black prepared me for everything. Broth sounds lovely."

…

 **Daenerys**

Snow and ice, trees and castles. The Neck was green, but here further North everything was covered in a thick blanket of snow.

Perched on Drogon's hot body, it was almost cosy, but whenever they landed the cold left her gasping for air. Jon seemed unaffected by the cold and even Lord Reed's daughter, who hailed from a warmer region, seemed unaffected by the cold.

 _I spent a long time beyond the Wall_ , the girl had explained to her after Daenerys asked for her advice. _I got used to it._

At last she spotted a large structure appearing behind a distant hill. It was a mighty castle made of grey stone and high towers jutting out of the snow-swept landscape. It was simply beautiful.

"What do you think?" Jon asked, a smile curling on his lips.

She graced him with a frozen smile. "Your home is beautiful, though I am dire need of a warm hearth."

Jon laughed and Meera Reed was desperately clinging to Drogon's back. Flying was still terrifying to the young girl, though she put on a brave face.

"Soon," he assured her and returned her smile. "I informed Sansa about our impending arrival, but first we need to find a good landing place. I suggest the ridge east from the castle. There should be enough space for Drogon."

Then he straightened himself and pointed left.

"Of course," Daenerys confirmed and angled her head to find the place Jon was pointing at. "Drogon…your heard what Jon said…You have to turn east."

Her clever child obeyed without question while Meera Reed continued to cling to Drogon's back as if her life depended on it.

Ever gently Drogon glided to the ground, landing on the snow-swept ridge. The ground steamed as Drogon's scales touched the snow beneath. He roared and threw flames in the air.

"Calm yourself," she whispered to her son and he finally allowed them to crawl from his back. Jon went first and helped Meera Reed from the dragon's back. Utter relief showed on her face as she stepped on the ground.

"Hard ground…the gods be blessed!" she muttered.

Daenerys smiled and gave Drogon his last instructions, least they frighten the stubborn Northmen.

"Don't get close to the castles," she told him. "Do you understand?"

Her child roared and moments later he propelled himself into the air, his large black wings blocking out the sparse sunlight.

"We will have to walk," Jon explained and Daenerys trembled. She had barely touched the ground and her toes were already freezing. It made her long to crawl back on Drogon's back. "It is not far."

"As you say," she replied determinedly and together they stamped through the snow. It was easier said than done, for the snow reached nearly to her waist and the sharp wind stole her breath away. Meera Reed, who was even shorter than Daenerys was even slower. At last Jon lost his patience and grabbed both their hands to pull them through the snow. Daenerys felt like a little girl, but she didn't mind. She doubted Jon would mock her for it.

By the time they had arrived at Winterfell it started to snow, snowflakes melting in Jon's dark curls. It was a pretty sight, though Daenerys heard enough from Jon to know how deadly this white substance can be. It brings death and puts the world to slumber until spring shows its first signs.

 _If we don't win we might never see spring again._

The smallfolk and the sentries placed on the ramparts watched them curiously. It made her wonder if these people even recognize their King. He had no horse, no banner and Ghost was not here to keep him company. Even Daenerys was hardly recognizable. Her silver hair was covered by her shawl and head-covering. She doubted any of the onlookers would think her a Queen.

Only when Jon pulled down his shawl did guards recognize him. They even apologize, but Jon winked with his hand graced them with a smile.

The large gate leading to the courtyard opened with a loud groan. Standing there she found even more people, mostly armed men, garbed in the colours of house Stark. In their midst stood a young woman, clad in a flowing grey dress. She was graced with red hair and blue eyes like the summer sea. A beautiful girl, though Daenerys read sadness in her hidden behind her regal bearing. She hid it well, but it was there, like a half-healed wound.

Daenerys knew the girl's name, because Jon told her about his sisters. Going by her red hair this had to be Sansa, the oldest daughter who was once wed to Ramsay Bolton.

Next to her lingered a young girl, long-faced and dark-haired like Jon. She was dressed in leather and a sword was fastened on her belt.

 _Arya_ , Daenerys guessed and shifted her attention to a young boy. Like Sansa he sported red hair and blue eyes, burying his head in the fur of a massive black wolf.

 _Brandon or Rickon Stark_ , she guessed. Jon laughed as the girl named Arya hopped into his arms. They exchanged a cheerful greeting and then he shifted his attention to Sansa Stark.

"Thank you for the warm welcome, sister," he told Sansa, who returned his smile. "I hope my absence wasn't too much of a bother for you."

"Not at all. The Lords of the North are on their way. Lady Alys arrived yesterday and Lady Alysanne Mormont a day ago…the others will follow," the Sansa Stark replied and gave Jon a sharp look. "But I am still waiting for the introductions."

"Of course," Jon replied and gave his sister an apologetic smile. Then he shifted his attention back to Sansa."This is Queen Daenerys Targaryen."

Daenerys swallowed hard. She heard so much about them and yet she was at a loss of words. She had neither dragon nor one of her allies at her side. Only herself.

"Your Grace," Sansa Stark greeted her and dropped a curtsy. "Welcome to Winterfell."

"A pleasure," Daenerys replied and graced the Sansa Stark with a smile, her gaze flickering to Arya.

"And this is Arya," Jon added casually and ruffled his hand through the girl's unruly hair. "My other sister. Rickon is over there…and Bran…Where is Bran?"

"The godswood," Sansa Stark answered and sighed. "He wants to speak to you and Queen Daenerys. Your friend Samwell Tarly joined us not long ago. He and Bran stroke up some odd friendship."

The name Samwell Tarly sparked her memory. That was Jon's friend who warned them about his Lord Father's treachery.

 _I will have to thank him_.

"We saw your dragon," Arya Stark interrupted her thought process. "Did you send him away?"

"Aye," she confirmed. "I don't want frighten your people, but I can introduce you later if you care to meet him."

The girl beamed.

"Of course."

By now even Meera Reed had recovered her ability to speak and greeted Lady Sansa.

"How is Bran?"

"Lady Reed," Sansa said, surprise showing on her face. "Did you come here to partake in the assembly?"

"Aye," she confirmed proudly. "My Lord Father sent me here to speak for him."

"I am sure Bran will be pleased to see you again," Sansa assured the girl with a smile, though it didn't quite reach her face. Daenerys read doubt on Lady Sansa's face. Meera had told her that she spent much time at the young boy's side. Why would he not be pleased to meet her?

"Anyway…you must be weary from the long journey," Lady Sansa added, her gaze flickering from Jon to Daenerys. "I can inform Bran that you are in need of rest…," she continued, but Jon interrupted her and shook his head.

"If Bran wants to speak to me it has to be important," he explain. "I will speak to him at once."

Then he inclined his head to look at Daenerys.

"Would you care to join us?"

Daenerys longed for a warm hearth, but she heard much about Jon's younger brother. She was anxious to meet him.

"Sure, I would be pleased to meet him."

…

 **Jon**

The sight of the godswood never failed to calm Jon, though he was anxious to meet his brother. In his last resurrection the Night King killed Bran before Jon's eyes. Now he was returned to him, alive and well, though different, so very different.

Daenerys stared in awe at the beautiful grove of trees as ancient as this castle. There were ironwood trees, old oaks and pine trees. Most of them had shed their leaves, leaving bare skeletons of wood. Only the mighty weirwood tree stood in its old splendour, proudly displaying his dress of crimson to the world.

There, perched in a wheelchair was his brother, his eyes blank like the fresh-fallen snow beneath his feet. Jon knew what it meant. His brother was experiencing one of his visions.

"Jon!" another familiar voice snapped him out his thoughts. It was a cheerful and oh so familiar voice.

"Sam!" he exclaimed. Looking at his old friend he noticed that he lost some of his girth. "What a pleasant surprise!"

"I could say the same about you!" Sam replied and let go of Jon, mustering from head to toe.

Then he turned to Daenerys, his eyes growing wide, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Forgive my negligence…It is a pleasure to meet you, your Grace. I am Samwell Tarly."

Daenerys graced him with a bright smile. Not even Sansa and Arya received such a smile.

"The pleasure is mine," she added and lowered her head in greeting. "Without your warning we wouldn't have been able to deal with your Lord Father's betrayal…I owe you debt, Samwell Tarly."

Jon wanted to slap himself when he saw Sam's confused face. _I completely forgot…_

Yet Sam noticed his discomfort and played along.

"Of course," Sam replied and gave Jon a strange look. "It was no bother. My Lord Father…we were never particularly close."

"So I heard," Daenerys answered enthusiastically and opened her mouth to speak, but Bran's awakening interrupted their exchange.

"You are finally home," Bran said, his voice distant and weary as his blank eyes changed to their natural blue colour. "I have been watching you, Jon. You know the truth, don't you?"

"I know," Jon confirmed and leaned down to embrace his brother. It had been so long."I know everything."

"As do I," Bran replied calmly, "But you are wrong. You don't know everything. Lady Melisandre's blood ritual succeeded. You weren't able to forge Lightbringer, but it bought us another chance. You have no reason to feel guilty."

Jon felt as if all air had been drained out of his body.

"You know about …my resurrection?"

"I told you…I know everything. The past, the present, the future…I saw all our deaths," he added, his gaze fixed on Daenerys. "Your sacrifice bought us another chance…a chance we cannot afford to waste. The Night King will soon show his face. You need to unite the kingdoms or all will be lost."

Daenerys paled and looked very uncomfortable.

"My sacrifice…," she stuttered, her gaze searching for Jon's. "I don't understand."

Jon didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell her, but not like this.

"Bran," he addressed his brother, trying form a proper sentence. "Can you see the Night King?"

"I can see him and he can see me," Bran whispered. "That is how he was able to lay a trap for you and Queen Daenerys…that is how he was able to kill your dragon. He marked me and now he can see into my mind. I am trying to block him out, but as winter prevails his powers grow and mine waver."

"My dragon is not dead," Daenerys insisted, her voice brimming with emotions. "I don't understand the meaning of your words, Lord Stark."

"No," Bran confirmed, his gaze flickering back to Daenerys. "I saw your dragon's death. The Night King mustn't be allowed to retrieve another dragon or we are all doomed to die again."

"Again?" Daenerys asked, her frustration apparent on her face. "What are you trying to say?"

"Exactly!" Arya agreed vehemently. "Stop with your mysterious talk and give us the facts."

"It means that your dragon died in your previous life," his brother explained calmly as ever.

"My previous life," Daenerys muttered, her eyes widening in recognition. Then she shifted her attention back to Jon."Do you know what he is talking about? Is this another surprise?"

Jon sighed heavily and nodded his head in confirmation.

"I wanted to tell you," Jon replied and received a frown. "I will explain everything if you care to hear. It is rather complicated."

She nodded her head, her gaze hard and distant. His heart sank, but he understood her anger.

 _I am a coward_ , he knew and tried to banish away his guilt. _I should have known that Bran would know about this._

"Later," she added. "I am tired and I am sure you want to speak to your brother."

"Of course," Jon replied weakly and Daenerys slipped away, as if to flee the godswood. He wanted to follow after her, but then he doubted she would want his company. She is confused and angry.

"Did you have to be this rude?" Arya asked their brother and slapped his shoulder. "You didn't even give Jon a chance to explain himself."

"Jon," Sam said, who had observed their exchange in silence. "What was this about my father's betrayal?"

"He told Queen Daenerys that you informed him about your Father's impending betrayal. He did this to hide his true knowledge, namely that he lived through these events before. He only meant well."

"Lived through these events before…," Sam muttered, his eyes wide like saucers. "What do you mean?"

"It means that I fought the Night King before…in a different life. I was killed after you left for Oldtown. They stabbed me and Lady Melisandre resurrected me. We fought the Night King and lost…I made a sacrifice…I sacrificed my wife, but instead of forging Lightbringer I was returned to the moment of my last resurrection," he stuttered and forced the words over his lips.

Disbelief was written all over Sam's face.

"Your wife?" he asked.

"Aye, my wife…Daenerys Targaryen," he replied, tears burning in his eyes. "The young woman you just met."

It was too much. He needed to get away.

"Forgive my rudeness," Jon apologized quickly and tried to regain his composure. "We will speak later. Please get Bran inside…it is getting cold. Can you do that for me, Arya?"

"Of course," Arya answered and stepped closer, probably to offer him comfort, but Jon wanted no comfort. He needed time to think, to calm his strained nerves.

…

 **Daenerys**

Daenerys remained locked in her chambers and desperately tried to wrap her head around the recent developments. First Jon revealed to her that he is her brother's son and now this. She was barely able to work through the first revelations when the next stone was thrown in her path. The old Daenerys would have called him a liar, but the way had Jon looked at her spoke of fear and regret.

It made her recall her strange dreams and it would certainly explain the familiarity she felt whenever he looked at her.

 _Could it be possible_ , she thought. _Did all of this happen before?_

 _Your sacrifice bought us a second chance_ , Brandon Stark had told her hours ago. Years ago she sacrificed the witch who killed her first husband and son to wake dragons from stone. In the end she herself became a sacrifice.

The thought alone was enough to make her shudder.

 _One of my dragons died in this terrible past_ , she recalled and watched the sky for Drogon.

 _It won't happen again_ , she swore to herself and rose to her feet. _Never._

Quietly, she made her way to the bed laid out with fresh linen and pelt. It was a spacious chamber, but Daenerys took no joy in it.

A few days ago she was happy, but now she felt doubt.

 _Whatever this means_ , she thought and fastened her cloak around her shoulders. _I need to speak to Jon._

When she entered the Great Hall she found Samwell Tarly in company of Sansa Stark, Rickon Stark, his woman Gilly and Lady Arya. They were laughing and eating, but Jon was nowhere to be seen.

Arya grinned and winked her aside.

"I am surprised you came," she remarked bluntly. "My ordered us to leave you alone."

"I am fine," Daenerys assured her. "But I need to speak to Jon. Where can I find him?"

Relief showed on Arya Stark's face.

"Jon is in the godswood," she whispered in Daenerys ear. "He always goes there to brood."

Daenerys chuckled, despite her sour mood.

"I thank you," she replied. "I will speak to him at once."

"Shall I show you the way?" Arya asked almost eagerly, but Daenerys shook her head.

"Not necessary," she assured the Arya. "I know the way."

"Good," the girl said and looked slightly disappointed. "But you will show me the dragon, will you?"

Daenerys nodded her head, unable to hide her amusement.

"Of course."

…

She found Jon perched beneath the weirwood tree, devoid of his usual fur cloak. An icy breeze was blowing through the tree tops and made the leaves whisper.

"Are you trying to freeze yourself to death?" she asked, half joking and half serious. He looked unnaturally pale, his lips almost blue from the cold.

Yet he smiled warmly, obviously relieved that she sought him out. It was a smile that could melt ice.

"It seems so, your Grace."

"Daenerys," she corrected him, not liking the return to old formalities.

 _Get a hold of yourself_ , she told herself and decided get straight to the point.

"Your brother said you died," she said and tried to recall Brandon Stark's words in detail. "And he spoke of a sacrifice. What does it mean?"

Jon sighed deeply and moved aside to make space for her.

"You should sit down. This will take a while."

"Very well," she replied and sat down next to him. "Now explain, but no more lies."

"No more lies," Jon confirmed and grew solemn. "I wanted to tell you, not now. I thought it would be too much to take. I know…I must sound like a madman to you, but I swear it is true. I was killed and Lady Melisandre's God brought me back. I don't know how or why, but when they tried to burn my body I rose from the flames. This is my second resurrection. I failed and woke on the day of my resurrection.

"You rose from your funeral pyre?" she asked and was still unable to belief his words. _He truly is of my blood._

"And we knew each other in this other resurrection?"

"Aye," Jon confirmed and averted his gaze. "We knew each other very well. We were wed."

She shuddered, but not from the cold.

"We were lovers?" she asked, unable to help it. It felt as if she was cast in one of her strange dreams.

"Aye," he confirmed, his gaze still fixed on the oak on the other side of the muddy trail. "And we had a were never barren."

His words hit her like an arrow, piercing her heart. She wanted it to be true, but there was still doubt, so much doubt.

"I had a child?" she asked and touched his shoulder. "Would you tell me about this child?"

"It was a boy," Jon answered his voice raw with emotions."His name was Daeron."

 _Daeron_ , she repeated. She would have chosen a different name, but that wasn't important.

"Why did you call him Daeron?"

He laughed and angled his head to look at her, his eyes wet with tears.

"You asked me that before. You didn't like the name. You thought the name too similar to your own."

"I see," she replied, sharing his sadness. "And why did you choose the name?"

"Simple. I always admired the Young Dragon and I am not that self-important that I would name my son after myself."

"Names are not important," she assured him and brushed her hand over his shoulder. "What did he look like?"

"He had black hair and purple eyes," Jon said and brushed his tears away. "He never cried and hardly ate anything. Not that we had much. The Night King made sure to burn the little corn that was left."

Daenerys shuddered again trying to share the brunt of his pain. Yet she knew that was impossible. She didn't share his memories, but deep down she was relieved about that. Rhaego's death hurt enough to last for a lifetime.

And yet she wanted to remember this child.

"I don't know what to say to make it better," she declared. "But I know this: we are going to defeat the Night King and his army. He will have no dragon of mine."

Jon laughed, though it was a laugh devoid of amusement.

"You were always the more enthusiastic one of us two," he added helplessly. "Until the end."

"The sacrifice," she said and he averted his gaze. She leaned forward, searching for his gaze."Did I volunteer?"

"Aye," he confirmed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Lady Melisandre told me it is the only way to forge Lightbringer."

"Lightbringer?" she asked softly.

"The legend says that Azor Ahai forged a legendary sword by plunging in his lover's heart."

"A blood ritual," she knew at once and couldn't help but to think of the witch that killed her husband and son. "And I agreed to this?"

"Aye," was the only answered. What followed was silence, deadly silence. "But it is no excuse. I killed you…," he stuttered burying his face between his hands.

She watched him helplessly, his body wracked by sobs.

She didn't know what to do. She only sat there, listening to the whispering of the trees until he regained his composure.

"You don't have to feel guilty," she assured him once he had turned around to look at her. Then she leaned forward and brushed her hand over his cheek. "You didn't do it out of viciousness, did you? You did it because I asked it of you. I am sure I had my reasons."

"It didn't work," he replied bitterly and leaned in her touch.

"It did work, but not the way you wanted. Your brother said it," she countered and moved closer, his warm breath tickling her skin. "Still…it is the reason we are here. We all have another chance. If my sacrifice was able to do that then I don't regret it and you don't need to feel guilty about it."

Jon nodded his head, his shoulders slumped and his expression weary.

"I am tired of fighting," he admitted and swallowed hard. "That is all."

"You are not the only one," she added gently."Tyrion…your sisters…I suppose every person in this castle longs for peace. Tyrion told me about the War of the Five Kings. There has been nothing but war since Eddard Stark was beheaded. I had my own struggles to contend with. Did my other self tell you about it?"

"Aye," Jon confirmed. "You told me about your struggles."

She chuckled, relieved that she didn't have to explain everything.

"Well, then you should know…I am also tired of fighting. I thought it would be easy to take the Seven Kingdoms, but that was another illusion. It seems the gods dislike us."

"It seems so," Jon replied and kissed her brow."I cannot give you peace, but I have another idea. Do you care for a bath?"

She was surprised by his sudden proposal, but she longed for warmth.

"Sure," she replied and rose to her feet. He followed suit and led her along the muddy pat leading through the godswood towards the rising mist she had noticed before, though she never associated it with hotsprings.

The hot springs turned out to be three small pools, a moss-covered wall looming above them and keeping out wanted witnesses.

 _Hot springs_ , she recalled and smiled. _It is all true. It was no dream._

She recognized the grey tower rising in the east and the crown of the weirwood tree peering over the moss-covered wall.

"Is something wrong?" Jon asked after a moment of silence had passed between them.

"Nothing is wrong," she assured him and loosened her cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground. Jon's lack of reaction startled her a little. It felt as if anticipated her actions. With another quick motion she discarded her dress and started to pull off her boots.

Jon regarded her in silence, a strange expression showing on his face. He looked torn as if he was unsure what to do.

"It was your suggestion," she teased gently. "Why are you still dressed?"

He flushed, a smile curing on his lip as he started to strip off his clothes. The water was scalding, just as she liked it, though the cold air was threatening to burn off her skin.

 _Nothing burns like the cold_ , she thought as she descended the steps leading into the water. It didn't reach higher than above her waist, but it was pleasantly warm. It felt like sitting on Drogon's back.

"You don't mind the heat," he said, amusement ringing in his voice as he moves through the water towards her. His hair was open and dishevelled. It gave him the mischievous look of a boy and softened his hard edges.

"I am a dragon," she replied cheekily and leaned closer to kiss him. He didn't refuse, his hands skimming over her hips, his touch almost feather light. Then he nibbled gently on her upper lip, before snaking his tongue in her mouth.

When he let go of her, she felt the urge to curse him.

He seemed to sense her dissatisfaction and grabbed her hips, lifting her out of the pool as if she was a mere child. She gasped when the cold air met her skin, but she didn't mind as he sat her down in the grass.

He did it almost gently, though his kiss was fierce and demanding. She gasped as touched her between her legs. Waves of dizziness washed over her. She closed her eyes, the world spinning around her as the pleasure overcame her like a strong current. When she woke from her haze she was breathing hard, her breathe as white as the steam rising from the springs.

He didn't speak, his mouth falling upon hers, hot and demanding. Savouring his taste, she touched him, first gentle, then more insistent.

Their tongues danced as he touched her breasts, fondling and squeezing them in a way that left her breathless. She grabbed his hair and rubbed herself against him as he continued to kiss her neck. She leaned closer and kissed his cheek as he buried himself inside her with a smooth thrust.

He took his time, rocking into with lazy thrusts, his mouth still resting on her neck. Daenerys had to remind herself to breathe again. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, her body moving instinctively.

Her release came suddenly and when she cried out, Jon covered her mouth, muffling her gasps. She tightened her grip on his neck as his thrust grew as uneven as his breathing, holding him close as he buried his head in her neck. Then he collapsed into her arms and her hands smoothed through his hair.

He didn't move for a long time, but she heard the screech of a dragon. It was enough to rouse her out of her let lethargy and made her lift her head.

"It seems Drogon is hungry," she whispered against his mouth."We should…," he muttered, but Jon kissed her again and stilled her words.

Then he let go of her, slipping out of her in one quick movement.

"You are right," he said and smiled at her warmly. She had never seen him this elated. "But you don't have to fret. The hunters were able to find a stag. That should be enough to still Drogon's hunger."

…


	18. Chapter 18

**Jon**

The light falling through the narrow window made Daenerys' hair glow like fresh-fallen snow. They had spent all evening in his chamber, but even these pleasant distractions didn't help to wash away his worry about the meeting with the Lords of the North.

He knew his people. They are a stubborn lot and they won't like the idea of supporting a Targaryen Queen.

"Say…Jon," Daenerys began and rose to her full high, the bedding falling from her naked shoulders. "Why is it so warm here? I see no hearth or brazier?"

"Winterfell is built on hot springs," he explained and brushed his hand through her curled hair. She leaned into his touch and smiled, her eyes falling to his scars.

"I see," she said and furrowed her brows. "Who gave you these scars?"

"My brothers of the Nights Watch…I told you…I was killed," he explained and averted his gaze. He hated talking about it. It was his fault. "This is the result."

"And the flames healed you?" she asked, her purple eyes still fixed on the scars. He nodded his head and touched her cheek. "Aye, I think so. I don't know much about these things. Do you know how your dragons were reborn into this world?"

"I know not," she replied and grew sad. "But I have my suspicions. Not that it matters. What matters is that we have dragons."

"True," he agreed. "But my Lords will care more about the fact that you are the Mad King's daughter. They are a stubborn lot. Don't expect them to like you."

"I know," she replied and sighed. Then she pulled off the bedding and crawled out of the bed to pull on her robe. In silence she closed the buttons of her dress. Then she turned around and gave him a strange look. "Jon…Have you ever considered telling them the truth?"

Jon froze and averted his gaze.

"I don't think they would take it very well."

"Why do you think that?" she asked and made her way back to the bed. Slowly, she settled down and brushed her hair over her shoulders. "Telling them the truth would redeem my brother. He never raped Lyanna Stark, but married her. Surely, that counts for something?"

"Brandon Stark and Rickard Stark still died by your father's hands," he countered and met her purple gaze.

"Exactly," Daenerys said and grinned. "My Lord Father killed them, but not my brother. I won't deny that he was foolish, but he never dishonoured Lyanna Stark. He married her and loved her. You are also a Northman and surely they won't judge your Uncle for protecting his family?"

"I don't know," Jon replied hesitatingly. He wanted it to be true, but he couldn't help but to remain hesitant. "I lied to them…they might take it the wrong way."

"Don't play dumb," she chided him gently. "I know that you are able to lie. We could say that you only recently found out the truth about your heritage. I am sure Meera Reed would be prepared to lie for us. She seems very loyal to your family."

Jon sighed.

"I am sure she would agree," he added and brushed the bedding away. Then he leaned down and started to put on his breeches. "And then? What are you trying to say?"

"That you should consider claiming the crown."

Jon thought he misheard, but she didn't look as if she was joking.

"Daenerys…!" he protested."I cannot…Why would you are you suggesting this?"

"Now you are really playing dumb," she remarked and folded her hands in her lap. "The Lords of the North, the Lords of the Vale and the Lords of the Riverlands dislike me, because they associate me with my father. Currently, they might hold a similar opinion of my Lord Brother, but the truth might change their opinion. Ser Barristan told me much about your my brother…he was loved. Think about it…Don't you think your Lords would like to see you crowned over the Mad King's daughter?"

"Maybe, but I am not sure about the Vale and the Riverlands…," he began, but stilled when she shook her head.

She smiled and leaned over to squeeze his hand.

"I have no doubt that the Lords of the Vale would continue to see you as Ned Stark's son."

"You cannot know that and the Riverlands…the Blackfish and Lord Edmure never liked me…revealing the truth makes me unworthy as King Regent. The Lords of the North named me King due to their belief that I am Eddard Stark's son."

"You are Lyanna Stark's trueborn son…you have Stark blood. You could also name one of your sisters Regent…you would trade one crown for another."

"Crown?" Jon asked and wrinkled his brows in confusion. "Are you trying to say that the North should stay independent?"

"Yes…I don't like it, but it is more important that we stand united against the White Walkers. I admit it…they scared me, especially the fact that they can kill dragons disturbs me. Besides, there is another way we could bind the North and the South together…by marriage."

"Rickon would still be the heir," Jon countered. "None of our children would have a claim to the North. The Lords of the North would never accept it. You cannot guarantee that one of our grandchildren will try retaking the North."

She chuckled.

"Isn't it a bit hasty to think about grandchildren?" she asked in clear amusement. "Besides, there is Lord Tyrion. He has a lot of ideas on how to improve the current system. I always intended to change things. When I said we should marry I meant that we would rule side by side. I doubt you would expect of me to sit beside you and do needlework?"

He laughed. He tried to imagine it, but it was a ridiculous thought.

"I would never dare," he replied and gave her a warm smile. "But isn't it a bother for you? You fought all those year to claim the crown…Why give it up? I was prepared to support you."

"What you say is true…but I don't care what these Lords think of me. I know the truth…I will still be Queen. That is enough for me. Besides, there is another reason. The most important reason..."

Her words roused his curiosity.

"What reason are you referring to?"

"Cersei Lannister. She spread rumours about me…that I am responsible for the destruction of the Sept of Baelor. We defeated her, but she still has the allegiance of the Iron Islands through Euron Greyjoy, the support of the Westerlands and the support of the Stormlords. The Grand Council could decide in her favour. Sure I could kill her and claim the crown anyway, but this would surely seed distrust among our allies. No, we need to unite the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms. Some of these Lords may prefer Mad Queen Cersei over the Mad King's daughter, but you are Prince Rhaegar's trueborn son, raised by the honourable Eddard Stark. Tell me…Who would you choose?"

"Not Cersei Lannister," he agreed. "That is sure, but I never intended to allow Cersei to live."

Her eyes widened in shock.

"What are you trying to say?"

"That I have no intention to allow her to live," he replied and leaned down to pick up his boots. "She cannot be trusted. She betrayed us last time and I won't give her another chance. She was partly responsible that we lost the war. Arya will do it…Queen Cersei won't suffer."

"Arya?" she asked, confusion written all over her face. "Your little sister?"

"I sometimes forget about your lack of knowledge…Arya trained with the Faceless Men. She knows how to kill. I wish she still was the little girl I knew, but nothing will ever be the same. Yet that won't change my opinion on this matter. Cersei Lannister will die."

Daenerys nodded her head in understanding.

"She will die."

…

 **Daenerys**

Daenerys tried not to flinch. Daenerys wasn't sure if it was hostility or distrust, but she felt like a little girl trying to convince old men to change their fixed views.

"My Lords," she began and raised her voice. "And Ladies. I came here to make peace with the North. I came here to apologize for my Lord Father's villainous deeds and I came here to ask for your support…to remove Cersei Lannister from Iron Throne."

Then she paused. She heard grumbling and whispering, but no clapping. She expected it, but she still felt great discomfort.

"May I speak?" a strongly-built man with a shaggy beard asked. _Lord Umber_ , she recalled.

"Speak, Lord Umber," Jon agreed and nodded his head. He was seated in the high seat, his white direwolf sprawled before his feet. He was silent, his bearing tense.

 _All will be well_ , she told herself. _Soon they will know the truth._

The Lord nodded his head and rose to his feet, his grey eyes darting to her.

"None of us here likes Cersei Lannister and we wouldn't be put off if she was to be removed from power, but we don't have men to spare. We cannot support another war in the South."

"I know that…I have no need of your swords," she answered and met his gaze. "All I need is your support. We will soon hold a Grand Council…all high Lords of the Seven Kingdoms are invited to participate in the settlement of the succession. I recently received a raven from my Hand…even Cersei Lannister is prepared to participate. This is our chance to end this bloody conflict."

"Forgive me, your Grace," a fat man, clad in a turquoise doublet embellished with a merman, asked. "May I speak?"

 _Lord Manderly_ , she recalled.

"Please speak, my Lord."

He cleared his throat and started to speak.

"Do I understand this right? You want us to give you our vote?"

"No," she answered and received stunned looks. "I want you to vote for someone else. Someone who has your trust…Jon Stark."

Silence reigned and Daenerys received even more stunned looks. One man even dropped his goblet, bringing forth a clinking sound.

Lord Manderly started at her as if she lost her wits.

"Forgive me…as much as I like his Grace, but he has no claim to the Iron Throne. Even Mya Stone…Robert Baratheon's bastard daughter has a stronger claim that him."

"He has a claim," Daenerys replied and turned around to look at Jon. It was time for him to play his role.

She knew that he disliked the idea, but she was tired of all this fighting for the crown.

"Queen Daenerys speaks true," he replied, insistent on using her title. It gave her the assurance she needed. _He won't betray me._ "I do have a claim…I am sure many of you have wondered about my mother…Lord Stark never told me who she was, but I recently found out the truth. Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch told me…My mother was Lyanna Stark."

Daenerys took in their reactions. It ranged from utter shock to understanding.

"Lyanna Stark…," Lord Umber muttered to himself." Rhaegar Targaryen…he raped her…Surely, you are not trying to say that…," continued, but Jon cut him off.

"He never raped her…it was a lie. Rhaegar Targaryen loved my Lady Mother and wed her," Jon added grimly, his face an unreadable mask." I didn't believe it at first, but Howland Reed swore to me that it is the truth. Believe me, I rather be Eddard Stark's son, but it would be another lie. I will name my sister Sansa Regent once I return from the Grand Council."

Lady Sansa didn't speak. She only stared at Jon, her mouth wide open.

Lord Umber was speechless and Lord Manderly decided to speak again.

"Lady Reed," he addressed Lady Meera Reed, who was seated next to Arya Stark. "Is it true?"

Lady Meera nodded her head and squirmed under the sudden attention.

"His Grace speaks the truth. He asked me to come here to speak for my father, Lord Howland Reed."

"But why?" Lord Norrey asked, his face a grimace of distrust. "Why would Eddard Stark commit treason against his King? I don't believe this…"

"Isn't it obvious?" Lady Alys asked and gave Lord Norrey a sharp look. "He wanted to protect his nephew. King Robert would have killed him."

Lord Norrey frowned, but remained silent.

"Lady Alys speaks true," Lord Umber grumbled unhappily. "Ned would have protected his sister's son even if it meant treason. He was always too good for this world."

"I agree with Lord Umber's assessment," a grey-haired woman added. _Lady Mormont_. "Ned was a good man who loved his sister dearly."

"You said that Rhaegar Targaryen wed your mother," Lord Glover said and stroked his beard. "But he was already wed…to Elia Martell."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time that a Targaryen takes a second wife, eh?" Lord Flint asked. "I admit…I always liked the idea."

This earned him a round of laughter. Daenerys felt relief washing over her and decided to make use of the moment.

"There is more. I propose to wed my nephew. It would not only prevent a future conflict, but also would also strengthen my nephew's claim. Those who will call him a bastard, among them Cersei Lannister, won't be able deny the truth. I certainly wouldn't give up my claim for a bastard."

Silence reigned until Lord Manderly decided to speak.

"Your proposal is not without merit," Lord Manderly said and eyed her with great curiosity. "But I have to ask this. Surely, you want something in return?"

Yet it was Jon who answered Lord Manderly's question.

"There is one condition. I know you all want the North to remain impendent, but be realistic. The North can barely muster more than ten-thousand men. A great part of our corn stocks are empty and winter is at our doorstep. Nobody asks you to kneel, but it would make a bad impression if the North is treated more favourably than the other kingdoms."

"Traitor!" Lord Norrey snarled at Jon, but it seems he expected such a reaction.

"Be careful, my Lord," he replied and smoothed his hand over the pommel of his sword. "Be careful who you call a traitor."

Then he rose to his feet and swept his gaze through the room.

"All of you beheld the dead man. Behind the Wall lurks a whole army of such creatures. The dragons won't be enough to fight them. We need to unite the Seven Kingdoms. If the North claims independence…the Vale…the Riverlands and the Iron Islands might make the same demands. I hold no love for the Mad King and nobody can deny that the Targaryen Kings had their fair share of cruel rulers, but Aegon the Conqueror also put an end to the constant infighting between the kingdoms. I don't know if we are able to defeat the enemy, but at least for now we need to stand together. Nobody will subjugate the North. I am prepared to swear it before the heart tree. I decided to be honest with you. Now I ask of you to show trust in me."

"I still call you a traitor," Lord Norrey insisted. "But that shouldn't be a surprise. Your Father abandoned his duty to run away with your mother. You are an oathbreaker and you brought the Wildling scum to our lands. Then we made you King and now you intend to sell us out to this foreign whore."

"I think that is quite enough!" Lord Umber shouted and slammed his hand on the table. "We all heard you, Norrey. I don't like it, but I understand what he is trying to say. The North lost much during the War of the Five Kings. I myself can barely feed my people. The North cannot survive on its own."

Then he turned to look at Jon.

"You have my sword. I don't like it, but as Ned would say: When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."

"Maybe," Lord Glover agreed unhappily. "But I doubt he meant dragons and wolves."

"How can you claim my Lord Father's thoughts?" Arya Stark asked, her grey eyes glinting with anger. "My Father protected Jon and called him his son. Rhaegar Targaryen was his father, but Eddard Stark raised him. He is still my brother."

"Arya speaks true," Sansa added her voice. "Nobody can deny that Jon was raised by my Lord Father. And Lord Umber speaks true. We don't have enough corn to last through winter. We need the south. Jon has my support."

"And mine," Arya added.

"I have to agree with Lady Sansa," Lord Manderly said and sighed deeply. „The majority of the corn is kept in White Harbour. We could import corn from the Free Cities, but even that wouldn't be enough to last through winter. I like the idea of independence, but I also like to have a full stomach," he added with a smile and patted his massive stomach.

Everyone, but Lord Norrey laughed. He continued to glower at Daenerys as if she burned his whole family alive.

"I agree with Lord Manderly," Lady Alys added with an amused smile. "I also prefer a full stomach."

Another round of laughter followed, before a plump Lady started to speak. _Lady Cerwyn_ , Daenerys recalled.

"I lost both my brother and father to the War of the Five Kings. I only want to survive through have my sword."

"Mine too," Lord Glover added, albeit unhappily.

"And mine," Lord Flint added and flashed Norrey a smile. "Get over your bloody pride Norrey. I don't like it, but I have fought at his Jon Stark's side. I trust a man who shed blood at my side."

Lord Norrey frowned.

"Trust?" Lord Norrey asked bitterly. "Are you lot fucking blind? He used us! I am sure he knew all along that he was Rhaegar Targaryens' whelp. I lost three brothers in the Rebellion and two sisters to the Wildling scum. My son won't fight for this foreign whore and her Targaryen bastard."

"Are you finished?" Jon asked him, his eyes dark like the night. He looked angry, so very angry. "I have yet to surrender my position. I can still have your head. The others may dislike my decision, but they accept it. I heard your concerns, but there is no reason to use such rude speech. Apologize."

"And what if I don't? Will you fight me?"

Jon met his gaze.

"If that is what you wish?" he asked in a challenging tone.

Daenerys quickly grasped Jon's arm and graced Lord Norrey with a calming smile.

"Lord Norrey only spoke his mind. Surely, that is no crime and wine helps to loosen the tongue."

Jon swallowed hard and nodded his head.

"Very well. Leave in peace, Lord Norrey."

The Lord remained silent and left.

…

 **Sansa**

The moonlight bathed the godswood in a soft shimmer of silver. She prepared for everything, but certainly not for a wedding. The guest weren't prepared either. The Lords and Ladies of the North were garbed in their simple leather and pelt clothing. The Wildings joined them as well. Among them were Tormund Giantsbane, Val and Lady Alys' husband. Said lady was now round like the moon and looked as if she might burst any moment. Even the King-Beyond-the-North came.

That Jon wanted her to conduct the wedding ceremony was another surprise.

 _When I return you will be the Lady of Winterfell_ , he had told her. _I want you to conduct the ceremony._

"Who comes before the gods tonight?" she asked and tried to imitate her Lord Father's solemn voice, her gaze fixed at Daenerys, her future good-sister.

Sansa was still unsure what to think of her, but even Arya liked her. Arya told her not long ago that she is able recognize a lie. Surely, she would know if Daenerys Targaryen was hiding something.

 _If Arya trusts her then I am willing to trust her as well._

"Princess Daenerys Targaryen comes here to be wed…a woman grown, trueborn and noble…she comes to beg for the blessing of the gods," Princess Daenerys declared in a raised voice. Usually, it was the father's or mother's task to answer the call, but the Princess insisted on doing it herself.

"Who comes to claim her?" Sansa asked.

Jon appeared slightly nervous as he stepped forward to claim the bride, garbed in a black dress. It was a simple dress, but Sansa the short time made it impossible to find something better. She added her own accents and embellished the front with three dragons and a wolf head.

"Jon Stark," Jon replied in a trembling voice and refrained from using his titles, though it didn't surprise her that he used his given name. Jon always wanted to be a Stark, though he soon will have to take up the cloak of a dragon. She didn't know why, but the thought made her sad.

Sansa gave Jon an assuring smile and turned to look at Princess Daenerys.

"Do you take this man?" she asked Princess Daenerys.

"I take this man," Princess Daenerys answered and tightened her grip on Jon's hand.

Sansa smiled.

"You may now kneel before the gods to receive their blessing," she added quietly and winked at the crying face of the weirwood tree. A heavy moment of silence settled over them as the bride and the groom knelt before the heart tree.

Not far away she spotted Bran, his blue eyes solemn and distant. Lady Meera stood next to him, her hand resting on his. Sansa has yet to understand their relationship. She left in a hurry after Bran's return to Winterfell, now she standing at his side as if she was his Lady. Normally garbed in pelt she even put on a pale wool dress.

 _Bran could do worse for a Lady_ , she thought and couldn't help but to smile. Rickon was also there, holding Arya's hand. Arya was the only Lady who didn't wear a dress.

 _Mother would have a fit_ , Arya had told her in the morning. _I would give everything to hear her scold again._

 _Not now_ , she thought and brushed these sad thoughts away. _Not today._

Then she shifted her attention back to Jon and Princess Daenerys. Gently, he took her arm and helped Princess Daenerys back to her feet to place a kiss on her lips.

Sansa felt a hint of jealousy. Once she dreamed of marrying a brave knight and wearing a crown. All these dreams were long forgotten, but she still longed for her own family, her own children and her own hearth.

She had Rickon, but one day he will realize the truth. _I am not his mother._

The feast was also simple. Nobody could afford to waste corn or coin on musicians, but Mance Ryder was kind enough to play the part of the minstrel. One merry tune after another was played by the man who saved her life.

She knew most of the songs, but later he stared to play Wildling songs. She doubted that the proud Northmen cared, for they drank and joined in as the verses echoed through the hall.

Sansa danced with everyone. First she danced with Rickon and then with several Lords. Even Tormund Giantsbane' asked her for a dance, though he was constantly inquiring about her sworn sword Lady Brienne.

Sansa found it quite amusing and even told the Lady to grace the charming Wildling with a dance.

 _Certainly not_ , she had replied and remained with Pod.

"You look quite gloomy," Lady Val remarked with a smile. Sansa watched as Arya danced with Jon while Princess Daenerys sat on the side-line, rubbing her swollen feet. She enjoyed the company of Lady Alysanne Mormont and Lady Alys Karstark. Even from afar she was able to hear their laughter. "What is the matter?"

"It is just…I don't care much for weddings. My weddings were rather unpleasant," she explained.

Val gave her an understanding smile.

She was garbed in a white pelt, her blond hair kept in a long braid.

Earlier, she saw her in company of a young man, graced with blond hair and an easy smile. His polished armour marked him as one King Stannis' knights, though she forgot his name.

"Val," she addressed the Wildling Princess with a knowing smile. "Who is your admirer?"

"Ser Justin Massey," she explained and grinned. "I stole him. He is quite pretty, isn't he?"

"Very pretty," Sansa replied and lifted her cup to her lips.

Val grinned and leaned down to whisper into her ear. "I don't mind sharing…"

Sansa nearly choked on her wine.

"No…I think…no thank you."

Val howled with laughter.

"I was joking. In truth I don't like to share, but I am sure most of these kneeler Lords would love to hop into your bed. You also have a row of admirers among my people. Red hair is seen as a sign of beauty and luck. "Kissed by fire" we of the Free Folk like to say."

"I see, but I have already a Lord in mind…I think you have met him. I have been corresponding with him over the last moons…without Jon's knowledge that is."

Surprise showed over Val's face.

"Who is it?"

Sansa pursed her lips.

"Lord Willas Tyrell…his is the heir to Highgarden. He told me that he visited Dragonstone."

"I didn't meet him, but I think the Dragon Queen mentioned his name," Val said and pursed her lips. "But the Dragon Queen called him comely. I suppose that is a good sign."

"I will meet him soon," she replied and took another sip her cup."I hope he likes me. I am no maid."

"He would be a bloody fool to refuse you…," Lady Val began, but was interrupted by Lord Umber's booming voice.

"Time for the bedding!"

Val gave her a confusing look as the men started to lift Princess Daenerys in the air and carried her towards he door.

Jon suddenly found himself surrounded by several ladies, pulling on his clothing.

"What is happening?" Val asked amusedly.

"The bedding ceremony…it is common that the guests help to undress the bride and the groom."

"Your people have strange customs," she remarked. "Do we also have to watch them?"

Sansa chuckled.

"What do your people do when they" steal" their wives or husbands?"

"It is simple. They strip naked and fuck. We certainly don't need other people to undress us."

Sansa laughed again.

"I think I like your customs better. I never liked the bedding ceremony."

…


	19. Chapter 19

**Arya**

The sea spreading beneath them seemed endless. Arya felt as if her face might freeze off any moment, but she didn't care. She was flying on a fucking dragon, like her childhood hero Visenya. It was not her dragon, but that didn't matter. She was flying on a fucking dragon.

"Dragonstone," Daenerys declared, her voice drowned out by the howling wind. Her face was barely visible beneath the pelted hood she used to cover her face. The wind up here was sharp and hurt like the touch of a whip.

Arya took pride in her Northern ancestry, but even she felt the icy wind getting under her skin.

But when she heard when she heard that they arrived at Dragonstone she pulled off her hood and straightened herself. Jon quickly grabbed her waist. He probably feared that she might fall from the dragon.

"Let go of me, silly!" she chided him and even Daenerys chuckled. "I just wanted to get a better look."

Dragonstone looked like she imagined it. Tall black towers touched the sky, its walls decorated with gargoyles, dragons and other wicked creatures she was unable to name.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Daenerys asked and patted the dragon's back. He obeyed immediately and dipped lower. This time Arya was grateful firm Jon's grip, though she would have never admitted it openly.

"It looks as scary as I imagined," she replied and graced her good-sister with a cheeky grin."Scary, but very beautiful."

Daenerys nodded her head. Again the dragon dipped lower, soaring towards the beach, where she spotted a handful of people.

How did they know that we are arriving today?

"Paez! Paez!" Daenerys commanded the dragon. Once, twice and a third time the dragon flapped his wings and finally descended on the beach below. Arya held tightened her grip on the dragon's back and brushed away her lingering fear.

The dragon roared as he landed.

Daenerys was already crawling from the dragon's back when Arya opened her eyes. Jon followed suit, but in a slower pace. He seemed comfortable with the dragon, but that was no surprise to her. He implied to her that he used to ride one of Daenerys' dragons into battle, but she forgot which one. She knew that this dragon was called Drogon, but she forgot the names of the other two, who were currently circling above the dark towers of Dragonstone.

"Lord Tyrion!" Daenerys greeted the dwarf Lord, surrounded by mighty tanned warriors garbed in in leather and pelt. Their curved blades identified them as Dothraki warriors Jon had told her about. "Forgive my delay, but the storms were harsh."

Arya came to stand next to Daenerys and took in Lord Tyrion's appearance.

He hadn't changed much. He was ugly as ever, though Arya kept that to herself. Jon liked him, but that didn't mean Arya trusted him. He was still a Lannister.

"We expected that," Lord Tyrion replied and smiled. "I also received your raven. I suppose we have plenty to talk about."

"I suppose so," Daenerys answered and craned her head to look at Arya. "We also brought a guest. This is Lady Arya Stark."

If the dwarf was surprised by her appearance it didn't show on his face.

"My Lady Arya," he said instead and smiled at her. "It is a pleasure to meet you again."

Arya was stunned.

"You remember me?"

"I have a good memory," the dwarf quipped jestingly and lifted his head to look at Jon, looming over the two of them like a giant."Ser Davos Seaworth returned to us recently and brought with him Robert's bastard boy. You were right…the boy looks like the late King, though he has nothing of his boisterous character."

Arya didn't believe her ears and kicked Jon's shin.

"You knew about Gendry?" she asked and crossed her arms in front of her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jon leaned down and ruffled his hand through her windswept hair.

"As a little girl you were always fond of surprises."

"I am not a little girl!" she snapped back.

Jon laughed and patted her head.

"Aye, you are."

…

Dragonstone's interior proved as grim as its walls suggested. Yet it were not the gargoyles and the stone dragons that scared her, but the thought of encountering Gendry.

She thought him long dead, but now she knew he was alive.

She didn't know if she wanted to hit or hug him, her thoughts whirling with these new emotions, as she climbed up another staircase. This castle seemed to have hundreds of them, more so even than stone dragons.

Arya's breathing was laboured when Daenerys opened a door and let them into a spacious room. The warm air touching her face told Arya that there was a warm fire awaiting her inside. She sighed happily and closed her eyes for a moment to savour the feeling.

This moment of peace didn't last long, for she suddenly found herself thrown to the ground, something wet touching her cheek.

She quickly opened her eyes and grinned when she found Ghost's ruby eyes staring back at her.

"Ghost!" she exclaimed and buried her head in his soft fur. "It is good to see you again!"

The wolf remained quiet as ever and licked her cheek, before walking to Jon's side. Her brother smiled and rubbed his head. Arya used the moment to take in the appearance of the elderly man seated at the table placed not far from the painted windows.

Jon had told her about the Onion Knight, but this was the first time she met him. She knew that he used to travel with the Red Witch. Arya wanted to kill her, but Jon forbade it.

"Your suspicions proved true, Ser Davos," Tyrion remarked. "Our Queen returned to us today."

"I wondered that too," Daenerys added and started to pull off her pelted cloak. "How did you know we were coming?"

"The dragons acted very anxious," Ser Davos explained. "As if they were expecting someone's return."

Daenerys's smile was as bright as a star. "I suppose they missed Drogon."

"I suppose so, your Grace," the Onion Knight replied and chuckled lightly. Then he angled his head and gave Arya a curious glance.

"This is my sister…," Jon began, but Arya cut him off.

"I can introduce myself," she told him and lowered her head in greeting. "I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. It is a great pleasure to meet you. Jon told me only good things about you."

The elderly man laughed and stroked his beard.

"That is kind of him," he replied his brown eyes still resting on her. It bothered her, but she didn't want to be impolite to one of her brother's friends."Gendry spoke of you as well, my Lady."

A gust of warmth washed over her when she heard this, but she couldn't help but to correct him.

"I am not really a lady," she informed him and smiled softly. "Where is Gendry?"

The elderly man sighed.

"The forge…"

Arya couldn't help but to laugh. She expected this. Deep down Gendry would always remain a smith, no matter what plans her brother had for him.

The forge of Dragonstone was not hard to find. Above its red door sat a mighty dragon, his eyes made of red gemstones that reminded her of rubies.

Several young men were working there under the tutelage of an elderly man, graced with a dusty beard and sharp grey eyes.

"Who are you?" the man asked her and brushed away the sweat that had formed on his brow. "It don't think I know you. Do you belong to the Queen's entourage?"

"Aye," she confirmed. "My name is Arya and I am here to find someone…his name is Gendry."

Realization washed over his dirty face.

"Oh, this odd boy," he said and put away his hammer. "You can find him in the armoury."

"I thank you," she replied quickly and followed the man's description.

Arriving at the entrance, she stopped herself and tried to recall what she wanted to say. It felt as if she lost her ability to speak. Her heart was even worse. It was beating furiously.

 _Get a fucking hold of yourself_ , she chided herself and stepped inside. _You are not like Sansa._

It was a dark room, filled to the brim with weapons and polished armour. Some of them were even made of obsidian, the material that was said to kill White Walkers.

She tried to walk quietly, but she nearly stumbled over a shield.

"Fuck this!" she snapped and kicked the shield over the floor. "Who put it there?"

"I did," a familiar remarked, laced with annoyance. Arya lifted her head and turned around. It was Gendry.

"Why…," he began, but stopped when he took in her appearance."Arya? Is that you?" he asked in a rather dumbly manner.

He hadn't changed much. He was still a giant, though his hair was longer. It nearly reached to his shoulders and the hint of a beard apparent on his jawline made him look older.

She gave him a hesitant smile and stepped into the light, falling through the narrow window above. Seeing him alive relieved her, but she didn't forget about her anger.

 _He should have come with me._

"Of course it is me…," she snapped back and crossed her arms. "Did you forget my face?"

Then she lifted her head and met his blue gaze.

It was warm and inviting. It made it hard to be angry with him. She recognized that he was pleased to see her, but she didn't expect his next action.

He picked her from the ground and twirled her around. It all happened so quickly that she was barely able to protest, before she found herself put back on the ground.

Gendry rumbled with laughter and she kicked him in annoyance. Not hard, but in a playful manner which seemed amuse him, because his face flushed.

"Ser Davos told me that you are alive, but I didn't believe it until now…," he remarked with another smile.

"And I though the Red Witch killed you," she replied in a softer voice. "I wanted to avenge you, but Jon thinks she could be useful in the coming war."

An expression of horror washed over his face.

"The Red Witch is alive…and your brother…he keeps her in his company…," he stuttered and paled. Fresh anger stirred inside her. Whatever the Red Witch did to him, she would never forgive her, no matter how useful she is.

"My brother doesn't like her either," she assure him him and stepped closer to take in his face. "Ser Davos speaks true…you do look like King Robert, though less fat."

"I sure hope so!" he gasped. "Though I heard he was a great warrior in his youth. I have only seen him once, when he went to visit one of the brothels in King's Landing. Back then I didn't even know that he was my father…now they want to install me as heir to the Stormlands."

Arya nodded her head in understanding.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic?"

"I am a smith…not a Lord. I don't even know how to read. I am only meant to be a puppet for the Dragon Queen. So much I know."

Arya understood what he was trying to say, but she doubted the Queen wanted to use him as a puppet. Jon wouldn't allow that.

"She is now my good-sister…I think she means well," she replied. "And everyone can learn how to read. Even Theon Greyjoy managed it."

"The young man with the grey hair?" he asked in discomfort.

Jon had told her what misery befell Theon, but Gendry didn't know what Theon was like as a young boy.

"That one," she confirmed and graced him with another smile. "But there are more interesting things to talk about, are there not? I want to hear your story…"

…

 **Daenerys**

Daenerys tried to get warm while Missandei brought food and wine. Lord Tyrion was already seated in a large armchair. He looked weary as he filled his cup to the brim.

Jon took a seat next to Tyrion, Ghost sprawled beneath his feet. Ser Davos joined them a moment later. It surprised her that he came alone, for he promised to introduce to her this Gendry Waters.

"The boy is occupied with Lady Arya," he explained in an apologetic tone. "He asks for your forgiveness."

Daenerys didn't mind.

"We can talk tomorrow," she replied and lifted her cup. Tyrion had told not long ago that this one was the last Arbor.

 _And there won't be another one if we don't defeat the enemy lurking to the North. Well, first we need to defeat the enemy to the south: Cersei Lannister._

Daenerys sighed deeply and placed her cup on the table. Then she lifted her head and smiled at Lord Tyrion.

"I apologize for my hasty actions. I know you expected to be invited to the wedding, but there was no time. The Lords of the North proved as difficult as expected, but in the end they accepted to bend the knee."

Tyrion nodded his head and circled his goblet in his hands. His brows were furrowed as if he was pondering this matter in deep concentration.

"I am not angry," he said at last and smiled wryly. "I just wished you waited a bit longer. But you are right…the result counts. Will the Lords of the North join us for the Great Council?"

"They promised their coming. Sansa and Bran will also attend," Jon added and exchanged a silent look with her. He looked as torn as her.

 _We need to tell Lord Tyrion the truth_ , she read on his face and braced herself for Tyrion's reaction.

"Sansa," Lord Tyrion repeated sadly. "I will be pleased to see her again…"

"I am sure she will also be pleased to see you again," Daenerys assured him and exhaled deeply, before continuing. "There is another matter we need to address, before we continue this conversation."

Surprise showed on Lord Tyrion's face.

"I am all ears, your Grace…"

Daenerys gave Jon a helpless look.

He frowned. He was able to lie, but she knew by now how much he disliked doing it

"I found out the truth about my mother," Jon said and met Tyrion's gaze.

"That is wonderful," Tyrion answered and gave her a curious look. "But…"

"It was Lady Lyanna Stark," Daenerys added quickly. "We also found out the truth about my brother Prince Rhaegar…he never raped Lady Lyanna…he wed her."

Tyrion didn't speak for a long time, his two-coloured eyes flickering left and right as if he couldn't quite decide where he wanted to look.

Finally, he stopped and emptied the cup in his hand.

Then he exhaled deeply and pounded his breast.

"Are you well, my Lord?" she inquired worriedly. _Was it too much for him?_

"As well as one can be after hearing what you told me," he answered and angled his head to look at Jon.

Then he started to laugh.

Finally, he stopped, his ugly features softened by another smile.

"Well, I suppose that explains why Eddard Stark allowed his bastard to grow up among his trueborn children. I certainly didn't expect something like this...I always thought Eddard Stark is a horrible liar, but now it turns out he was the greatest liar of us all. This is glorious…Robert spent all these years trying to eradicate the last Targaryens and now we know he was hiding right in front of his nose. Glorious, I say."

Jon didn't seem to share Tyrion's amusement.

"It was quite the shock," Jon admitted calmly. "Jon is not even my real name…I am Aemon Targaryen."

"Aemon Targaryen," Lord Tyrion repeated quietly. "Like the Dragonknight…a good name. Jaime always liked to hear the stories about the Dragonknight."

"As did I," Jon confirmed warmly. "But I am not Aemon the Dragonknight. Not Truly."

"Neither am I," Tyrion agreed. "I was always too small to be knight."

Daenerys didn't know what to make of their sudden bouts of melancholy.

"Speaking about Kings," she added and cleared her throat. "Are there news about Queen Cersei?"

Tyrion's gaze darkened immediately and Ser Davos finally decided to sit down beside her.

He had been watching the flames throughout their exchange. His frown told her that he didn't know about Jon's true birth.

If it displeased him, it didn't show on his lined face.

"The people of King's Landing are starving," Ser Davos remarked and met her gaze. "There have been several uprisings, but all of them were quelled brutally. It seems Queen Cersei still has the allegiance of the Ironborn."

"But she promised to attend the Great Council?" Daenerys asked Tyrion.

"She did," Tyrion confirmed. "And she agreed to exchange my brother for Asha Greyjoy. I am honest…I don't know what to make of her actions. She is besieged from all sides and yet she won't give in. I suppose she thinks she might be able to sway the high lords to her side. That is Cersei for you. Even standing close to the abyss she thinks she is able to turn the tables on us."

"Probably," Daenerys agreed. "Both the Vale and the Riverlands have yet to declare their allegiance. We also instructed the Lords of the North to refrain from doing so openly. Jon also handed his position as King Regent to Lady Sansa. Even our marriage is still a secret and we intend to keep it that way, though Lady Sansa will inform Lord Edmure and Lord Willas about the truth. We intend to surprise you sister and I intend to support Jon's claim."

"Cersei's reaction will be glorious to behold," Lord Tyrion said, a wicked smile curling on his lips. "But I still have to ask this question…Do you have proof for Jon's true parentage?"

"Don't fret about it, my Lord," she assured him and smiled cheekily. "We have an idea. It will be a surprise."

"I see," Tyrion said and sighed deeply. "Quite a lot of surprises are waiting for my sister. Speaking of surprises…Ser Barristan informed me that the Lord of the Stormlands ceased their fighting. I sent Lord Varys and Ser Jorah as en envoy to meet them…and to explain our willingness to install King Robert's bastard son as heir to the Stormlands. I recently received a word from Lord Varys that they are prepared to attend the Great Council, though Ser Barristan thinks the Lords of the Stormlands are only curious about the bastard. We should tread carefully.

"Indeed," Daenerys agreed, though she was pleased to hear from Ser Barristan. "Will Ser Barristan, Lord Varys and Ser Jorah meet us along the way?"

Tyrion nodded his head in confirmation.

"That is the plan. All our paths seem to converge in Harrenhall, the place where this madness began."

"No, it is the place where this madness will end," Jon declared determinedly.

…

 **Cersei**

Cersei donned her finest black dress. It was wide at the hip, to support her growing belly. A week ago she bled heavily, but her Hand Qyburn assured her.

 _The child is strong_ , he had told her with a strange smile. She had always prided herself on her ability to read her enemies, but Qyburn was an odd exception. His face was as revealing as a blank piece of paper.

 _Soon we will free your father_ , she whispered to the child and smoothed her hand over her belly. _Jaime will hold you in his arms and everything will be as it was_. _You won't be taken from me like your other precious siblings. No, the witch's curse will not harm you. I will prove her wrong._

"Your Grace," Qyburn greeted her when she stepped in the dark anteroom leading up to the King's solar. "Tycho Nestoris awaits you. Lord Euron also insisted on a meeting. I informed them that you are in dire need of rest."

She had listened to him in silence, but didn't answer at once. A Queen only speaks when she wishes for it.

"First I will speak the banker and then to Lord Greyjoy," she informed him and waved her hand at the guards placed next to the door. Before stepping inside, she turned around to pose another question.

"Is Ser Strong in attendance?"

Qyburn smiled slyly and nodded his head in confirmation.

"Of course, your Grace."

The Queen's solar was a spacious room filled with light. Lingering near the large polished table she spotted the banker.

He graced her with feigned smile and dipped his head in reverence.

"Your Grace," he said. "It grieves me to hear about your illness, but a pressing issue leads me here. I heard about your loss."

Cersei gritted her teeth, but the looming shadow of Ser Strong at the other end of the room gave her the assurance she needed. She could take the fool's head whenever she wanted.

This was power.

"I am not defeated," she replied icily. "There will be a Great Council. The Dragon Whore thinks the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms will anoint her Queen, though she dared to bring dragons and Dothraki to Westeros. Her only allies are Eddard Stark's bastard son, the Dornish and whatever is left of the Tyrell family. I lost the last battle, but the Dragon Whore has yet to win the allegiance of the Vale and the Riverlands. Even the North named Sansa Stark Queen when they heard about the bastard's allegiance with the Dragon Whore. I have the Stormlands, the Westerlands and the Iron Islands. Sure, the Dragon Whore could try to subjugate the other kingdoms with force, but that would only paint her as the Mad King's daughter. I assure you, the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms will choose me. Yet that doesn't change my plans…I still have need of your loan to buy the allegiance of the Golden Company."

The banker had listened in silence and now he was sipping on his cup of wine.

 _I should pay him a lesson. I could start by cutting off his fingers._

"I understand what you are trying to say, your Grace," he said and smiled thinly. "But the Iron Bank cannot grant such a loan until the political situation is resolved… maybe after the Great Council…," he trailed off.

"I heard you!" she snapped coldly. It took all her effort to calm herself. She turned away and looked through window, which gave a clear view on the outer ramparts. They were decorated with the heads of the peasant leaders that dared to rise up against their rightful Queen. Only the banker's head was missing.

 _I think I will give him a last chance_ , she decided and turned around.

"What if I offered you rights to my family's goldmines?" she asked in return.

He only gave her another one of his feigned smiles.

"I fear even that wouldn't be enough to repay the debts. Your Lord Husband…," he explained, but Cersei cut him off. The fact that he dared to mention Robert made her blood boil.

"My husband is dead and gone. I am now the Queen!" she snapped and gave him a piercing look. "Is that understood?"

He continued to smile, but his demeanour told her that he had no intention to help her.

"I understand that, your Grace. I still have to refuse you…maybe after the Great Council," he answered and moved towards the door.

 _A shame._

"I think not," she said and waved her hand. At once Ser Strong started to move. The fool's cries echoed in her ears as she stepped out of the room. It sent a tingle of pleasure down her body. It made her long for Jaime's touch, but she quickly brushed these feelings away.

She was a Queen. She couldn't allow herself to show weakness.

Euron Greyjoy was already waiting for her when she entered the throne room.

"Were the negotiations with the Iron Bank successful, your Grace?" he asked and gave her one of his bashful grins.

She wanted to reprimand him for his words, but she needed him on her side. She couldn't buy the Golden Company without the Iron Bank's support, but the fool didn't know that.

 _I only need his support for the Great Council. Then I will kill him._

"Successful," she replied briefly and didn't even look at him. "Did you bring your niece?"

"She is a bit damaged, but alive," he replied in a joking manner. "I am going to miss her, but I will be pleased as long as you are prepared to keep your word."

 _To make him my King_ , she recalled and couldn't help but to be amused. _And independence for the Iron Islands._

 _I will never marry you. Maybe I will ask Ser Strong to cut off your cock to wear it around my neck._

"Of course," she replied and graced him with a bright smile. "Of course."

…

 **Jon**

A cold wind was blowing when they walked along the beach. Above them stretched a blue sky and the dragons circled above the stormy sea like three dark shadows.

Jon marvelled at the sight, but felt a hint of fear. He had ridden Rhaegal for two years, but this Rhaegal didn't know him.

"Are you afraid?" Daenerys asked him, her smile warm and inviting. Her touch on his shoulder helped to calm his nerves.

 _You did this before_ , he reminded himself and squeezed her hand. You can do it.

"I suppose so," he replied and exhaled deeply.

"Arya mentioned that you are a warg," Daenerys remarked quietly and followed after him towards the dragons. Viserion had landed not far from them and Rhaegal followed suit. Only Drogon was still circling above their heads, his roars echoing over the island. "What does that mean?"

"A warg is a person who can control animals. It is true….I can slip in Ghost's skin at will, but dragons are different. I was only able to do it when Rhaegal allowed it."

She nodded her head in understanding, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"A dragon is not a slave."

He chuckled and leaned closer to place a kiss on her brow, before pulling off his cloak.

"Indeed," he whispered and made hesitant steps towards Rhaegal.

Even from afar he felt Rhaegal's warm breath trickling his skin.

Jon remained utterly silent, but his heart skipped a beat when his hand smoothed over Rhaegal's rough skin.

Relief washed over him when Rhaegal rubbed his head against his hand.

He roared loudly. The smell of blood and smoke met Jon's nostrils. It was a familiar smell.

Yet Jon couldn't help but to laugh.

"It is good to see you again, boy," he replied and patted his head. "Would you mind if take a brief flight for old times' sake?"

The dragon roared and dipped his body. Jon marvelled at the dragon's ability to understand him.

"Well, then let's do this," Jon said in a trembling voice and climbed up the dragons back. His heart was beating wildly, but that was only his excitement speaking.

Arriving at the top he turned around to take one quick glance at Daenerys. The distance made it hard to make out her facial expressions, but she was waving.

Turning around, he patted Rhaegal's back and gave the command." Sōvegon!"

At once Rhaegal flapped his wings and took to the sky. It was a wonderful feeling that left him gasping for air.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, savouring the feeling. Then he opened his eyes and dared to look down. The castle had shrunken to nothingness.

Rhaegal seemed to share his delight and roared again.

Jon wanted to stay like this forever, but he didn't want to worry Daenerys. Thus he patted Rhaegal's back and gave the necessary command.

"Illagon! Ilagon!"

Rhaegal heard him and dipped lower. The quick manoeuvre caught him off guard and the dragon shrieked. It felt as if he was teasing him.

Jon laughed and tightened his grip on Rhaegal's back as he descended. It was an almost pleasant landing.

With wobbly feed he crawled from Rhaegal's back and joined Daenerys.

She looked relieved when she handed him the cloak.

"It is true," she said and beamed like a star. "This is the proof Lord Tyrion asked for. You are my blood."

He returned her smile and leaned down to kiss her soft lips. He would have loved to take her right there, but this was not the place.

She let go of him and placed her hand on his cheek.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

He blushed and touched her hand, still resting on his cheek.

"Nothing in particular," he replied and his eyes darted back to the dragons. "I am just tired. I think we should return. There is much we need to talk about."

She gave him a knowing smile.

"Indeed, there is much we need to talk about."

…


	20. Chapter 20

**Sansa**

The trees had long shed their leaves, their twigs bare like the landscape around her. Even from afar she was able to see the silver glimmer of the God's Eye. The last time she had passed these lands she was still a child and the thick forest around Harrenhall had been dressed in the colours of autumn. Now even these trees were bare and dead.

 _Winter is coming_ , her Lord Father used say to warn them of the coming danger. Even Sansa often ignored his warnings.

Moving towards the blackened gates of Harrenhall they were greeted by outriders that sported the golden rose of House Tyrell.

Their appearance was no surprise to Sansa. Even from afar she had been able to see the sea of pavilions and tents, though not all of them belonged to House Tyrell.

As they passed the tents Sansa took note of each batch and crest. It made her aware just how much the nobility of Westeros had been reduced the past wars. Some houses had been completely eradicated and while others continued to live on through cadet branches.

House Tyrell alone had lost four prominent members, though they took good care to wed into almost all prominent houses of the Reach. Lord Willas Tyrell had many possible successors even if he wouldn't be able to father a child of his own.

 _The gods wouldn't be this cruel_ , she thought and climbed from her horse to meet the man she had been corresponding with over the last moons. The Queen of Thorns had once envisioned a match between her and her and Lord Willas Tyrell, though Sansa knew by now that it was just another ploy to claim the North. They wouldn't have looked at her a second time if they had known about her brothers' survival. Not the game had changed and Sansa decided right there that she would make full use of it.

"Lady Sansa," the young heir of House Tyrell greeted her. He was tall like his brother Loras, but his face was sharper and his hair darker. Yet he was graced with Margaery's smile. It was a warm smile, but not devoid of sadness. "It is a great pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, my Lord," she replied and dropped a curtsy. He nodded and leaned down to place a brief kiss on her hand, before lifting his head to look at her.

"My Grandmother and Lord Tyrion await us," he informed her without hesitation and took in her large entourage.

There was her Uncle Edmure, her Grand-Uncle the Blackfish, Lord Yohn Royce, Lord Reed and many more. Every house of the North sent a representative. Most of them were relatives of the ruling lords and ladies while some sent trusted advisors to observe the council on their behalf. The same could be said about the other houses.

"I am pleased to see your grandmother again, my Lord" she replied politely. "My Uncles, Lord Royce and Lord Reed will join us."

"Of course," Lord Tyrell replied and gave her a knowing smile. It didn't surprise her at all. _Lord Tyrion must have informed them._ "Please come along, my Lords and Lady."

"It is my pleasure," she repeated and followed him into a large pavilion made of a shiny green material.

Inside she found a large polished table covered with candles and several familiar faces. There was Lady Olenna Tyrell, Lord Tyrion and even Ser Barristan Selmy. Jon told her that he survived, but seeing him here was still a pleasant surprise. Only the sun-kissed woman garbed in orange and yellow silk was unknown to her, though Sansa had her suspicions. _This must be Princess Arianne Martell._

Lord Tyrion didn't hesitate to introduce them.

"I think you remember Lady Olenna and Ser Barristan," he said and graced her with a mild smile. Then he jerked his head at the sun-kissed woman. "And this is Princess Arianne Martell."

The woman bared her white teeth.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady Stark."

"The pleasure is mine," she replied politely and shifted her attention back to Lady Olenna and Ser Barristan Selmy."It eases my heart to find you alive, my Lady. And you, good Sir."

True to her character, Lady Olenna came straight to the point.

"Keep your flatteries to yourself, sweet girl," she said and leaned on her gilded crutch. "Sit down and let us speak about your _supposed_ brother. I could scarcely believe it when I heard it from Lord Tyrion's mouth. Eddard Stark a traitor to his King…it is _unbelievable_."

Sansa could only agree. That her Lord Father had lied for all these years was still hard for her to believe, but she also knew how much he had loved his sister. The flowers on her grave were proof for that.

"My father tried to protect my Aunt's offspring," she replied calmly and received only confused looks from her Uncle Edmure, the Blackfish and Lord Royce.

"Dear niece," her Uncle Edmure added. "What kind of treason could your father have committed?"

Sansa sighed deeply and braced herself for their reactions.

"He lied about Jon's parentage," she explained and looked first at the Blackfish and then at her Uncle Edmure. "The truth is…Jon isn't my father's son."

Her Uncle's blue eyes widened in shock, the Blackfish fell silent and Lord Royce looked as if he was about to drop from his chair.

"That is hard to believe…he has the Stark look," the Blackfish protested, but Sansa shook her head and leaned over to touch his hand.

"Jon looks like a Stark, because his mother was our father's sister Lady Lyanna Stark….and his father was…," she continued, but was unable to speak further, now that all of them looked at her.

"His father was Rhaegar Targaryen," Lord Howland Reed finished for her.

"Impossible!" Lord Royce gasped and stared at her as if she had grown a second head. "I have known Ned since he was a young boy. He would have never betrayed Robert in such a vile manner. He would have never harboured a child that was raped into his sister."

"Prince Rhaegar never raped her," Lord Howland Reed corrected him quickly. "Lyanna Stark wasn't abducted by Rhaegar, at least not in the way Robert imagined it. She ran away with him…she loved him and she married him. It was a foolish thing to do, but Lyanna's boy is not to blame for his parents' actions. At least that is how Ned saw it. On her dying bed his sister implored him to save her son and so he did. Does it really surprise you that Ned acted this way, my Lord? When King Robert rejoiced over the death of King Rhaegar's children, Ned left him standing there like a fool and set out to find his sister. Only Lyanna's death was able to reconcile them somewhat, though in the end I think even Ned realized that their friendship was not the same."

"He married her?" the Blackfish asked sceptically. "He had a wife…"

"Elia Martell," Lord Reed confirmed. "But she is gone. Her children as well. There is no other claimant left other than Jon and his wife."

"Lord Reed speaks true," Sansa added her voice and sought Princess Arianne's gaze. She had listened in stoic silence, which made Sansa believe that Lord Tyrion had informed her beforehand. "By his marriage to Queen Daenerys any doubts of legitimacy can be thrown out of the window. He may not be Prince Aegon, but he is still Rhaegar Targaryen's son. I was also shocked when I found out the truth, but Jon is a better choice than Cersei Lannister. Even Queen Daenerys is prepared to support Jon's claim. I beg of you, please promise us your support."

Then she craned her neck to look at Lord Royce.

"And you, my lord. For the sake of the love you held for my father. Forget your grudge against the Targaryens and help us depose the true enemy…the Lannisters," she added and gave Lord Tyrion and apologetic look.

He returned her smile and dipped his head.

"I don't deny the truth in your words, dear niece," her Uncle Edmure replied. "But that doesn't change the fact that your father lied to my sister in the vilest manner possible…"

"They are dead," Sansa she countered quickly. "Robb, father and mother are all dead. I don't know what my father or mother would have done, but I am sure that Robb would have supported Jon if it helped to remove Queen Cersei from power."

"Sansa speaks true," the Blackfish grumbled and patted Uncle Edmure's shoulder. "I had my doubts about the boy, but he kept his word to me. He even handed his crown to our niece.

"He just traded one crown for another," her Uncle Edmure replied cynically. She loved her Uncle, but she was beginning to losing her patience.

"I am only asking you to vote for him, not to kiss his feet, dear Uncle," Sansa snapped.

"The Targaryens were my father's enemies…," her Uncle opened his mouth in protest and Lady Olenna didn't hesitate to hit him with her crutch.

Her Uncle grunted in pain and Lady Olenna used the moment to speak.

"Loyalties change all the time, my lord," she chided him like a young unruly boy. "Now is the time to bite in the sour apple. I made the mistake to underestimate Queen Cersei and I paid dearly for it. She needs to go and the best way to do achieve this without bloodshed is if we stand united."

"I can only agree with my grandmother," Lord Tyrell added warmly and angled his head to look at Princess Arianne.

"What do you say, my Lady?"

She gave a sad smile.

"I hold no love for Prince Rhaegar and his lover, but I support Queen Daenerys and her _husband_. He has my vote if it means to remove Queen Cersei."

"Hear hear!" the Blackfish muttered and gave Edmure a sharp look. "What do you say now, nephew? Princess Arianne has more reason to dislike the boy than you. See reason."

"Very well," her Uncle grumbled and lowered his head. "I agree."

"That only leaves the Vale," Lady Olenna added and gave Lord Royce a scrutinising look. "What does the newly-made Protector of the Vale say? Will he prove himself a grumpy old man or a man of reason?"

Lord Royce frowned.

"I cannot say that I approve of Ned's deception, but he is gone. And your brother…Rhaegar's son brought Petyr Baelish to justice…I owe him for that. That is why he has my support."

Sansa sighed in relief and smiled at both Lady Olenna and Lord Tyrion.

"Then let me explain our plan…"

…

The distant horizon was lined with red streaks when Sansa stepped out of her tent. She longed for rest, but Ser Barristan came her way and thwarted her intentions.

"Ser Barristan," she greeted him and smiled warmly. "I was surprised that you didn't raise your voice during the meeting…"

"I am a man of the Kingsguard," he replied and returned her smile. "I was thought to keep my mouth shut. I am not going to lie…I am anxious to meet your brother. I always had my doubts that Prince Rhaegar raped your Aunt, but that he married her…I didn't foresee that."

"Many of us did not," Sansa agreed wholeheartedly. "But I am sure Jon will be pleased to meet you. You are one of the few people left in this world who knew Prince Rhaegar personally."

"I hope so too, my Lady," he replied and leaned down to kiss Sansa's hand. "Forgive an old man for keeping you so long, my Lady."

Then he let go of her hand left.

"Do you know Ser Barristan well, my Lady?" the familiar voice of Willas' Tyrell snapped her out of her thoughts.

She turned around to look at him.

"I know him from my time in King's Landing," she informed him. "But I cannot claim to know him very well."

"Neither can I," he replied and offered his arm. She took it hesitatingly and together they walked along a muddy path, lined by trees and tents. "You knew my sister too, didn't you?"

"I did," Sansa confirmed and searched for a nice memory with Margaery Tyrell. "She was kind to me. She sent me new dresses. I was saddened by her death."

"Marge liked to make dresses," Lord Willas replied sadly and brushed his hand over the golden rose embroidered on his doublet. "She made this for me. Truly, Marge would have made an excellent seamstress if she hadn't been born into a noble family. I didn't approve of her marriage to King Joffrey, but I supported my father out of loyalty to my house. I know now that I acted cowardly. I should have voiced my protest…maybe then Marge would still be with us. The bloody crown was not worth it in the end."

Hearing him like this made her feel melancholic. Both of them lost loved ones and both of them were both damaged goods.

"I had to learn the same lesson. I desperately wanted to be Queen and begged my father to wed me to Joff. I was a foolish girl."

He squeezed her arm and smiled down at her. His golden eyes were warm like spring sunshine and stirred something in her heart that she had thought lost. Warmth.

"You are not foolish, my Lady," he assured her and jerked his head at his twisted leg. "I once dared to challenge Prince Oberyn Martell to a jousting competition and earned myself this crippled leg. I too was a foolish boy."

"Oh, I wasn't just foolish, I was very foolish," she japed and squeezed his hand in return."Arya can tell you all about it when she joins us."

"Arya is your younger sister, isn't she? I haven't seen her?"

"She accompanied Jon to Dragonstone," she explained. "I should have known that she wouldn't skip an opportunity to fly on a dragon."

Willas Tyrell looked stunned.

"The dragons accept her?"

"Not her, but my brother," she explained and gave him a knowing smile. "Didn't Lord Tyrion inform you about their intentions?"

"He did, but I wasn't aware that your sister would be part of it," he remarked in an amused voice and pointed at the distant camp. Above the golden tents rose the banner of House Lannister and it was surrounded by several thousand men-at-arms. Sansa wasn't surprised that Cersei came armed. She hated her with all her heart, but she couldn't deny that she learned some valuable lessons from her. "Queen Cersei will have a good view when the dragons arrive. My grandmother's only grievance is that she won't be able to stand next to her to behold her stunned face."

…

 **Daenerys**

The world below her was a motely of brown and yellow. The trees had long shed their garb and half a day ago they saw the first snow covering the hills and valleys of the Riverlands.

Daenerys heard much of Harrenhall. This was the place where her brother Rhaegar met his Lady Lyanna. It was the beginning of the downfall of her family.

 _This castle looks cursed_ , she thought as she patted Drogon's back. Ever carefully, her child descended towards the large ridge not far from the blackened walls.

Soil, stones and earth were pulled out of the earth as he landed on the ground. Once he had stopped his movement she turned around and cast her eyes to the dreary sky where she spotted Rhaegal and Viserion.

Rhaegal shrieked as he descended towards the ridge and threw flames into the air as if to announce his arrival.

Daenerys didn't mind his antics. Queen Cersei ought to see what she is up to, though she promised to keep them away from the council itself.

"Well, done," she praised Drogon. He lowered his back and climbed down. Jon did the same and met her along the way. He looked a little pale around the face. Arya grinned like always, her hair tousled from the wind.

"Here we are," Daenerys remarked to Jon and Arya."Harrenhall…that's where it all began."

"It's a horrid place," Arya added and brushed her wind-swept hair out of her face."I was imprisoned here during the War of the Five Kings. This is a cursed place."

"It certainly looks cursed," Jon agreed and frowned deeply as she regarded the grotesque towers touching the sky. "But the same could be said about other places."

"You are quite right," she confirmed and took Jon's hand. "But we are not little children. We shouldn't be frightened by such tales."

She craned her head to look at the sea of tents and pavilions. Not far away from here, right below the ridge they found the familiar banner of House Tyrell, a golden rose on a green background.

Further to the east she spotted the banner of House Lannister: a golden lion on a crimson background.

"It seems Cersei Lannister doubts our sincerity," Jon remarked sarcastically when he saw the men-at-arms parading around the camp. A weary smile crossed his lips as he pointed at the camp not far from the Lannister camp. It belonged to Cersei Lannister's ally, Euron Greyjoy."Well, good for her, but that won't save her."

"Indeed," Arya agreed and gave Jon a grim look. Daenerys knew what Jon tasked her to do, but it was hard to believe that this dainty girl trained as a Faceless Man.

"Come now," Jon added and ruffled his hand through Arya's hair."Tyrion awaits us."

Jon was right. Tyrion awaited them in company of Lord Willas Tyrell, Ser Barristan and Sansa Stark. He donned his finest clothes: a black doublet, a crimson cloak and his silver pin fastened on his small chest.

"We apologize for the delay," Daenerys declared. "Dragons are not slaves."

"Better late than never," Lord Tyrion japed and dipped his head. Daenerys smiled and shifted her attention to Ser Barristan.

"It is wonderful to have you back, your Grace," Ser Barristan declared and leaned down to kiss her hand. His smile was brighter than the sun of Meereen, but then his eyes fell on Jon and his demeanour changed. He grew very silent, his bright blue eyes taking in Jon's appearance.

"And it is a pleasure to meet, your Grace," Ser Barristan added and lowered his head in reverence. Jon smiled, but she noticed his discomfort.

"I thank you, Ser Barristan," Jon replied. "But there is no need for such formalities…at least not here. And I am also pleased to meet you."

Ser Barristan's eyes were wet with tears, though she doubted it was out of sadness. He looked happy, even elated.

 _I will have to arrange a quite get-together for those two_ , she noted for later.

"I missed you too," Sansa Stark added and embraced first Arya, then Jon. She did the same with Daenerys, though she couldn't help but to notice the distance between them.

 _It is no wonder. She hardly knows me._

"It is good to see you again, Lady Sansa," Daenerys remarked and smiled. "Did you have a hard time convincing your Uncles and Lord Royce?"

"There were discussions," Lady Sansa answered. "But it is done. They are prepared to support us. All that remains is to confront Cersei. I hope you studied your lines, your Grace."

Daenerys exhaled deeply and nodded her head in confirmation.

…

 **Jon**

They assembled in the Hall of the Hundred Hearths, though Jon only counted thirty-four or thirty-five. It was Harrenhall's great hall, but for Jon it felt like a grave. In the distance he heard the cackling of the flames, but now and then he felt a cold gust of wind washing over his shoulders. _Maybe this is only my anxiety speaking._

It was here were his father opened the tourney of Harrenhall with a song or that was what Lord Reed had told him not long ago.

The crown might not bring him much happiness, but it would be well worth it if it brought him the army he needed to defeat the Night King.

Not all lords and ladies came to pay witness to the Great Council, but that was no surprise to him. Some still believed that it was King Aerys' wildfire that burned the Sept of Baelor. It was no complete lie, but it was Cersei Lannister who used it to kill her enemies.

None of them had a vote, besides the Lord Paramounts, but electing the next King was not the only reason they held this council.

Most of these lords had already taken their assigned seats at the large round table placed in the middle of the room. There was Lord Willas Tyrell, Lord Edmure Tully, Princess Arianne Martell, Sansa Stark and Ser Lomas Estermont, the Castellan of Storm's End. He was also the chosen representative of the Stormlords. They looked grim, but that was no surprise. Ser Barristan dealt them a harsh defeat or so he heard from Lord Tyrion.

At last came Queen Cersei, though not without her loyal guard, a massive man garbed in thick plate armour and a helmet to hide his face. _The Mountain._

Cersei Lannister was still a good looking woman, though her golden curls were considerably shorter than the last time. Jon still recalled vividly how proudly she carried her mane of golden curls and fine dresses. Now she wore a black dress, a golden crown resting atop her head.

"We welcome Queen Cersei, late wife of King Robert Baratheon, the First of his Name," Tyrion greeted his sister on their behalf. "And Lord Euron Greyjoy, the Lord of the Iron Islands."

"Soon King," he corrected Tyrion and bared his white teeth. There was something vulgar about him that reminded of the old Theon. "And you must be the Imp. You are as ugly as I expected."

"Be silent," Cersei snapped and truly, Euron Greyjoy fell silent. She held her head high as she approached the table. Cersei Lannister was a vile woman, but nobody could deny that she lacked brazenness.

Then she angled her head to look at Tyrion and the assembled lords and ladies.

"I am Queen Cersei the First of her Name!" she declared in a loud and clear voice and met Daenerys' gaze. "And unlike the Mad King's daughter I was at least born and bred in these lands while she has been running throughout Essos, wreaking havoc and burning cities. Not only that, but her Mad Father's wildfire destroyed the Great Sept of Baelor and killed hundreds of lords and ladies, among them my beloved daughter-in-law Queen Margaery. Not only that, she also brought barbarians into our lands and butchered hundreds of good Westerosi. I have no blood claim like her, but I am the best choice, because I know these lands better than her. That is why I am here."

Jon saw the anger written on Daenerys face, but she remained silent as they had planned.

It was Tyrion who answered on her behalf.

"We heard you," Tyrion said. "But first we need settle another matter…the promised hostage exchange: our brother Ser Jaime Lannister for Lady Asha Greyjoy. There will be no voting before this is done, sister."

"Don't call me that," Cersei Lannister sneered and eyed Jon across the table. "I heard congratulations are in order…the Bastard of Winterfell and the Mad King's daughter, what a fitting match. Well, back to the matter at hand. You shall have your hostage exchange."

Quickly, she called one of her loyal men to her side and gave her instructions. Tyrion did the same and moments later the Kingslayer was brought into the hall.

They gave him fresh clothing, but his grim expression only changed when he spotted his sister alive and well.

Asha Greyjoy didn't look as healthy as Ser Jaime. Her face was gaunt, her shoulder-length brown hair tattered and her clothes dirty. The ghost of a smile showed on her lips when she noticed Theon's presence.

It was the first time he felt a hint of pity for Theon. It was quite clear that his sister went through a terrible ordeal.

"I bring you Asha Greyjoy," Cersei declared and smirked at Jon. "Now I want my brother back. Your father was a fool, but an honourable man. I assume you will keep your word."

"I will," Jon confirmed and waved with his hand. "Ser Jaime is yours."

Ser Jaime was allowed to take a seat next to his sister while Asha was allowed to return in the arms of her brother. They whispered to each other as they returned to their seats.

"It is done," Cersei declared mockingly and grinned at Daenerys. "Now back to the topic at hand. You heard my reasons. I have the support of the Westerlands, the Iron Islands and the Stormlands. Don't allow yourself to be fooled by her beauty…madness resides below these rosy cheeks and King Snow dishonoured himself when he wed the daughter of the man who murdered his Grandfather and Uncle. Robert and I never loved each other, but he achieved one grand thing: he got rid of the Targaryens. That is why I ask you to stand with me and refuse her claim."

Daenerys neither smiled nor frowned.

"I fear you are misinformed, your Grace," she informed Cersei in a calm voice. "I don't intent to take the crown for myself…"

Then she took Jon's hand and squeezed.

"Rhaegar Targaryen's son is the true claimant. Jon Snow was never Eddard Stark's son. He is the son of Lady Lyanna Stark and her husband Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Lyanna Stark wasn't raped by brother…they loved each other and wed. When she lay dying in her birthing bed she asked of Eddard Stark to protect her son, Aemon Targaryen."

Cersei Lannister didn't answer at once. She blinked once, twice and a third time, before she started to laugh. The assembled Lords and Ladies were equally silent. Only the Stormlords whispered to each other in hushed voices. Ser Lomas Estermont stared at Jon with wide eyes.

"Rhaegar Targaryen?" Cersei asked and chuckled. "Are you taking me for a fool?"

"No," Jon replied and met her gaze. "I can fly a dragon and I am willing to show you if you care to see it, your Grace."

Cersei was about to open her mouth, but Jon interrupted her and shifted his attention to Ser Lomas.

"You have no reason to love me nor do I expect it of you, my lords," Jon said and raised his voice so everyone was able to hear him. "I am sure you think Eddard Stark a traitor, but House Baratheon is extinct, safe for the bastard boy Gendry Waters. As King I would be prepared to legitimize him in exchange for his oath of loyalty…," he continued, but Queen Cersei cut him off.

"Don't listen to the bastard!" she shrieked and slashed her hand on the table. "He is obviously lying. He looks nothing like the Dragon Prince and there are no male children of Robert's body left in this world…" she continued, but stopped when she noticed Lord Brandon's entrance in the hall.

Ser Barristan carried Bran in his arms while Lord Reed, Ser Davos and Gendry followed after him.

"That is what you believed," Bran said and met Queen Cersei's gaze. "You had them all killed, didn't you? All of King Roberts's bastards were smothered on your order, even the last one, a little girl by the name of Barra, fathered on a whore in Chataya's brothel. You were afraid that the world could discover your dark secret…Your children's hair was too golden, wasn't it? My father Eddard Stark found out the truth and confronted you. In the end he lost his head for it. Yet you were wrong…one bastard survived," he added and tilted his head to look at Gendry.

The young man looked uncomfortable as he stepped before the Stormlords, yet Jon felt a hint of relief washing over him when he saw their stunned looks. _They recognize the similarities,_ Jon was sure.

"My Lords," Gendry greeted them and dipped his head. Ser Davos didn't hesitate to add his voice and placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "This is Gendry Waters, King Robert's last living son."

Ser Lomas Estermont narrowed his blue eyes as she took in the boy's appearance.

"Who was your mother?"

"A tavern girl," Gendry replied almost shyly and brushed his dark hair out of his face. "From Flea Bottom…I didn't know who my father was until Lady Melisandre brought me before King Stannis. I was just as surprised as you, my Lord."

"I was there," a younger man added. He also wore the crest of House Estermont."The boy speaks true. The King recognized him, but he disappeared afterwards. We thought him dead."

"I helped him escape, Ser Andrew," Ser Davos explained with a mild smile.

"Lies! Lies!" Cersei Lannister snapped and demanded their attention. "He looks nothing like Robert. I have his daughter, raised by Jon Arryn himself…How can you even consider choosing the child of a tavern whore of a kingly ward?"

Jon was surprised how much Bran's words affected her. She trembled, her jade eyes blown.

"The Dowager Queen speaks true," Ser Lomas Estermont added and eyed Gendry closer. "He has more of Renly, but he is undeniably of Baratheon blood."

"And a dirty commoner!" the Queen countered heatedly, but received only cold looks in return. Theirs was an allegiance of convenience and nothing more.

"So is Mya Stone," Lord Royce added icily. "And ask you not to invoke Jon Arryn's name. He deserves better than that."

"You thought you were safe, didn't you?" Bran asked Queen Cersei and shifted his attention to Ser Jaime. "You thought that nobody would see you in your lover's embrace. Sadly, I saw you. I was just a boy and didn't even understand what you were doing, but even so you pushed me out of the window, Ser Jaime. Do you recall what you said before you did it? The things we do for love…"

Ser Jaime trembled as he lifted his head to look at Bran.

"You are able to remember our encounter?"

"No," Bran replied and his eyes turned white. "I can see it. I was once Brandon Stark, but now I am the Three-Eyed Raven. I am the last greenseer and I can behold the visions of the past, the present and the future. Call me mad for all I care, but just by looking at you I can see all of your darkest secrets."

"Don't listen to the boy!" Cersei snapped angrily. "He is obviously mad…," she continued, but Bran silenced her.

"Three children shall you have…Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds…and when your tears have drowned you death shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you….," Bran said in an eerily quiet voice as if he was reciting one of Old Nan's scary stories. "Do you remember what the witch told you?"

Cersei Lannister had grown utterly quiet. She trembled, her jade eyes wide in fear.

Bran didn't smile. He simply stared at her with his empty eyes. Whatever these strange words meant, it managed to frighten the proud lioness.

"And do you remember what she told your friend? No man, but worms will have your maidenhead. Your death is tonight, little one. Can you smell her breath? She is very close. And she was right again, wasn't she? You watched as little Melara Hetherspoon drowned in a well, didn't you?"

"You cannot know that," Cersei Lannister stuttered and stared at Bran. "No one knows…"

"I know so much more," Bran added and shifted his attention to the assembled Lord. "I know the true enemy…the White Walkers and their army of dead men."

Whispering filled the hall, but Jon knew this was his cue. It was time to give Cersei Lannister the deathblow.

"What Brans says is the truth!" he said and raised his voice. "I saw and fought them. They command a massive army of dead men."

"The dead…," the Blackfish repeated. "What do you say?"

Jon exhaled deeply and waved his hand at Ser Davos.

"Will you bring the present?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Moments later Ser Davos returned in company of a dozen men, carrying a wooden box in which they kept the dead man.

Even Cersei Lannister watched in silence as the men opened the buckles of the wooden cage.

Jon stepped forward as the half-rotten creature hopped out of its prison and started to shriek. The dead man was bound, but the smell was terrible. The body was blue and bloated, the sweet smell of death lingering wherever it turned.

No word was spoken, only the soft sound of whispering could be heard.

"Seven Hells!" Jaime Lannister exclaimed. "What is that?"

"We call this creature wight," Jon explained and swept his gaze through the room. "As I said before…the White Walkers can command the dead. Only dragonfire, dragonglass and Valyrian Steel can kill them."

"Dragonglass?" Lord Willas Tyrell asked. "The material you have been harvesting in Dragonstone?"

"Exactly," Jon confirmed. "But he dragons and the dragonglass are not enough. We all need to stand together if we want to confront this common enemy. It is our only way of survival."

"This has to be some sort of trick," Cersei muttered to herself. "It has to be a lie…"

"Are you blind, Cersei?" Jaime implored and rose to his feet. "This…this is a godamn dead man."

"I am not blind!" she gasped and trembled. "It is a trick…a way to pit everyone against me…," she trailed off.

Tyrion used the moment to speak and cleared his throat.

"I think now would be the best time to cast our votes…"

"I agree," Arianne Martell added and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "But first I ask you to remove this thing from our presence."

Daenerys chuckled. "Of course."

"A wonderful idea!" Euron Greyjoy added in an almost elated manner. He grinned lounged in his chair as if he was in a tavern. "Don't you agree, my gracious Queen?"

Cersei gritted her teeth and rose to her feet.

"This was staged from the very beginning! I will not be part of this!" she declared and turned around to look at Ser Jaime. "Jaime, we leave!"

Then she gathered her skirts and was about to move towards the door, but then she noticed that Ser Jaime hadn't move from his position.

"Jaime…," she repeated. "Your Queen commands you to follow her!"

Jaime Lannister didn't move. He simply stared at her, the silence stretching endlessly. At last he turned around to the remaining Lords of the Westerlands.

"I am not my father and I have no right to ask this of you, my lords, but I ask you to support me. I never wanted to be Lord of the Westerlands, but I think now is the right time to cast away my white cloak and take up the inheritance my father intended for me. Maybe I never deserved it, but my sister is no longer able to lead you," he declared and turned back to Jon. "I hold no love for you, but I failed your father…he asked me to protect Princess Elia and her children…it was the last thing he asked of me before he left for the battlefield. I broke that promise as I broke my vow when I slew the Mad King, but I will fight with you if the lords of the Westerlands are prepared to follow me."

Jon watched in stunned silence as the gallery started to rattle with the approving claps of the lords of the Westerlands. It seemed they didn't forget that it was Ser Jaime who fought with them.

"I name you all traitors!" Cersei shrieked pulled up her dress. Then she turned around to look at Euron Greyjoy. He stilled lounged in his chair and had observed the spectacle with a white grin. "What are you waiting for, we are leaving!"

He laughed and hopped to his feet, before following after her, towards the door. His men followed suit, no word leaving their mouths. They followed after the Queen like a parade of death men.

Ser Jaime gave Tyrion a beseeching look.

"Leave her be and I shall cast my vote for you. That is all I ask."

Tyrion swallowed hard and looked at Jon.

Jon nodded his head.

"No harm shall come to her," he promised. _For now._

"It seems there is only one claimant left," Daenerys added and broke the silence that had settled over them. "What do you say, my lords and ladies?"

Sansa gave Jon a warm smile.

"You have my vote."

"Mine too," Lord Royce added grimly.

"And mine," Willas Tyrell declared solemnly.

"You have Dorne's vote," Princess Arianne confirmed with a tight smile.

Edmure Tully sighed heavily and nodded his head.

"The Riverlands will fight with you. You have my vote."

"I hold no love for the Targaryens," Ser Lomas Estermont declared. "But too much blood has been shed for this throne. You have my vote…for the sake of King Robert's last living children."

"That leaves Iron Islands without a vote," Tyrion explained. "It stands six to one…I think it is decided."

"Indeed," Daenerys confirmed and smiled warmly. It was a beautiful smile that warmed him from head to toe, but he was unable to relish it. The true enemy was still waiting for them. "And now we fight."

Jon nodded his head.

"Now we fight."

…

 **Arya**

It was strange to feel a stranger's face on her skin, but it would be the last time. Cersei would be her last kill.

This time she chose the face of a simple servant girl and clad herself in the garb of a common kitchen maid. At first she intended to take the face of one of Cersei's handmaids but she decided against it, because even Queen Cersei's death was not worth the life of an innocent girl.

She had followed her all the way here to the Inn at the Crossroads where she decided to make camp with her last remaining loyalists.

It was not hard to mingle among the kitchen maids and it gave her time to observe Cersei.

She was always surrounded by her servants and her guard, the Mountain. She had never seen a more frightening man, but she had a task to fulfil. _For Mycah._

 _Fear cuts deeper than words_ , she whispered to herself and continued to cut the onions. Now and then she watched the other girls, but they continued to ignore her. They were too engrossed in their talk about the latest fool who had put his cock between their legs.

Why that made her think of Gendy mystified her and she quickly banished these crude thoughts from her mind.

She was the last one to leave and in passing she retrieved a flagon of wine.

As she slipped outside of the kitchen she braced herself for the task lying ahead of her. She had assured Jon that there would be no danger in this task, but that was of course a lie. Arya knew Jon better than anyone. He wouldn't have allowed her to do this if he had known the truth.

Cersei's camp lay not far from the Inn and was heavily guarded. She barely reached her tent when a bulky guardsman stopped her.

"Where are you going, girl?" he inquired in a glum tone.

"Wine, M'Lord," she stuttered and tried to appear intimidated. "My Mistress sends the Queen fine wine."

"Fine wine, eh?" he asked and leaned down to sniff at the open bottle. "That smells like piss. Fuck off!"

"My Mistress heard the Queen likes wine!" she replied sweetly, but avoided his gaze. Commoners avoid looking at people of higher standing. It was one of the first things she learned from Izembaro. "Please go and ask her, good Sir. I shall always be indebted to you."

Her sweet begging changed the man's attitude, though Arya believed it had more to do with her slightly loose cleavage.

He smiled and made his way back to the golden tent placed atop the hill.

Anxiously, Arya waited for his return.

"You may pass, girl!" he replied a heartbeat later and waved his hand at her. Arya should feel relieved, but her stomach coiled painfully as she stepped into the tent.

Cersei's presence was enough to make the skin on her neck prickle. _Fear cuts deeper than swords._

"Come here," the hated voice prodded. Cersei was seated in a cushioned chair, a golden cup in her hand. "Fill my goblet."

The Mountain was not far. As always, he stood there like a man frozen in stone.

Arya swallowed hard and made her way to the table, her gaze fixed on her cobbled shoes.

"It is my pleasure, your Grace," she added shyly. Then she lifted the flagon and filled the cup to the brim. It was a slow-working poison and wouldn't show its power until the Queen had left this place. She also used plenty of honey to overtone the taste, though Arya doubted Cersei would notice it. She wouldn't feel any discomfort until the last hour of her life. Arya would have loved to kill her in a more cruel way, but she had to work with what she got. Jon asked her to do it as bloodless as possible.

"What is your name, girl?" Cersei asked her. Slowly, Arya lifted her head and graced the Queen with a hesitant smile. "My name is Lya, your Grace."

"Lya," she repeated and winced. "What a plain name."

Then she lifted her goblet and sipped from the wine. Arya stared as the red liquid rolled down Cersei's lips. It was almost mesmerizing and Arya realized too late that this was the wrong thing to do.

Almost instantly, Cersei spit out the wine.

"What is this?" she asked in a shrieking voice and grabbed Arya's arm. "Did you drop a gallon of honey in my cup?"

Arya tried to keep up her act and lowered her head. _She needs to drink more_ , she thought and watched in growing anxiety as Cersei emptied the goblet on the ground.

"Forgive me…your Grace," she stuttered and stepped backwards. Her sword was hidden beneath her clothing. Thus she pretended to stumbled over her feet and fell to the ground. She even feigned a whimper as she pretended to pull herself back to her feet. As swiftly as possible she slipped her hand beneath her skirt and reached for Needle.

With her sword behind her back she moved towards Cersei.

"You are a clumsy thing," Cersei remarked chidingly and waved her hand at the Mountain. "And you tried to poison me. I don't know who sent you, but I will enjoy this."

Arya tightened her grip on her sword and braced herself for the coming fight. Ever slowly, the Mountain started to move.

"Ser Strong," Cersei she said and smiled brightly. "It is time to pay this little runt a lesson."

The giant lifted his hand in a slow manner, but instead of unsheathing his sword he grabbed Cersei's neck.

Arya froze. She stared in horror as Cersei's face turned blue, her eyes nearly popping out of her head.

She choked and shuddered like a hanged man, before she stopped moving.

"Don't get closer!" she snapped at the giant and lifted her blade. "I warn you!"

The Mountain of a man dropped Cersei's body on the ground, before he lifted his head and started to pull off his helmet.

"A girl was careless," a familiar voice said in a chiding tone. Arya shuddered as she found the familiar face of Jaqen H'ghar looking back at her. He even smiled at her and dipped his head. "But this man is pleased to see her again. The last from your list is gone from this world. The Many-Faced-God received his due from her."

Arya trembled.

"Did you kill her for me?"

Jaqen H'ghar shook his head.

"Not for you, sweet girl. This man was speaking out of concern. A girl can now leave her anger behind her if she wants to return to the living."

"Then why did you kill her?"

"A girl knows how it is done. A name was given."

"I don't understand…," she began, but he silenced her with his bright smile and lowered his head as if to take his leave from her.

"This is our last meeting. Farewell, sweet girl. Valar Morghulis."

Arya nodded her head in understanding.

"Valar Dohaeris…"


End file.
